Letters to Corporal Masen
by solostintwilight
Summary: Writing to offer a bit of home to a soldier overseas, she discovers words can bind a friendship. Lonely in war torn Europe, he finds hope in letters from a stranger. What happens when the war is over?
1. Chapter 1

**_A patriotic gesture to offer a bit of support from home turns into a search for something more. A lonely solider discovers something worth fighting for in the words of a stranger. _**

**_ This story came to me on Memorial Day thinking of all those who had fallen, and all those they had fought for. _**

**_SM owns Twilight. _**

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_January 2nd_

I stared at the blank page in front of me, unsure of what to write. I was very articulate when the subject matter was something that excited me. But with this, I was at a loss.

What do you say to a stranger?

This was a terrible idea.

I had no idea why Renee had even suggested it; except that it was something she had recently fallen into.

And it was for a noble cause.

And perhaps that I had nothing else to keep me occupied.

No occupation except working at the library, and even that had become nothing short of my own lonesome time reading. With the events of our nation, very few people had the time to read. I was left to myself on those days I worked. Not even the books could keep my mind engaged.

I looked down at my blank bit of paper and sighed again.

I had to write something.

I had promised Renee.

Damn her and her noble causes.

Pen to paper, I started to write.

Perhaps I would do some good for someone somewhere.

_Dear Soldier,_

_My name is Bella…_

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**_I can't tell you how often I will update. I'm not going to stress myself out with update deadlines._******

**_But chapters will be short for a while..and then they won't. You know me... _**

**_Love to you! _**

**_Banner coming soon and all that jazz! _**

**_MWAH!_**

**_steph_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello Again! A few questions to answer... Updates will be whenever I can. NOT every day. sorry- it's just too crazy to do it, but every few days, absolutely... **

**When does this take place? This is a WW2 era story- some of you got it right with the beginning suggestions. **

**Will there be EPOV? not as written...yet.. but maybe later... **

**HEA? YES. but THERE WILL be tissues needed in this one. THUS Hurt/Comfort is clearly implied. There will be tears... It's wartime... in the 40's... **

**So excited by all your excitement! I'm sorry if I don't get back to many of you in your reviews. You all are awesome and you make my day with your words. I'll try to answer as I can. **

**So here's some more to tide us over... **

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**March 8th**

I closed the door to the house, wanting to keep the noise of outside where it belonged. I checked my mailbox slot in the common room, sighing when I saw the familiar empty hull. Making my way upstairs, I could hear my roommates laughing behind our door.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, not wanting to worry them with my failures. I would find a job. Somewhere, they must have need of someone who was introverted and cared more for literary figures than real life beings.

I forced a smile on my face, hoping it didn't look too forced and opened the door.

Alice turned to me as soon as she heard the handle, her eyes bright with excitement until she saw my face.

Nothing got past Alice.

"They closed the library, didn't they?" she asked and stood quickly to come over to me. She had changed out of her nurses uniform and was comfortably dressed in a sweater and charcoal skirt, her shoes only adding an inch or so to her short body as it rushed to me.

"It was bound to happen, I said dismissively. "I was the only one really taking advantage of the books."

"I'm so sorry, Bella," she said and reached out to take my hand, drawing me towards the small table they were sitting at in our makeshift sitting room.

The common rooms downstairs were always loud and the other girls who shared the house were not the kind of girls I circulated with, so Alice had fashioned a small corner in our room that we could use for our own. It meant less room for our beds and personal belongings, but it was home. At least until the war was over and we could find work back at home.

Work might be plentiful in some cities, but back in Washington, it was a little more difficult.

And now that I had met Rose and Alice, New York City had more claim to me than home.

I had to make the best of it.

Rose looked at me with her cool sympathy and poured me a glass of the iced tea they had made. I was always amazed at how proper she could look, even in her crisp nurse's uniform. Her hair was always done up just right, always in the latest fashion. Many people often remarked she was the spitting image of Veronica Lake. She was that beautiful. And that cool and unattainable to most men.

"It was a deplorable job, Bella," she said. "You are far better than that."

Leave it to Rose to tell me in her own way what a horrible job it had been.

"You should come work at the hospital with us!" Alice exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement once more.

"Do I need to remind you of Bella's aversion to blood and injuries?" Rose retorted. "Even if you do spend more time in hospitals than most doctors I know, its probably not a good idea."

I scowled at her for a second and shook my head, my attention drawn back to Alice.

"She's right. I would never be able to be a nurse's assistant," I said, feeling a little more worthless than I had before I walked in.

"I'll talk to Esme in the morning," Alice said. "She will find you work. She always does. And then we can all work together!"

Alice was always the beacon of hope for people. Her smile and exuberant attitude was far bigger than her small stature. But today, she couldn't cheer me up. Every time I turned, it seemed I was failing.

I nodded and stood up, stretching my back.

"I think I'll just go to bed. I'm tired," I said and moved to head towards my bed in defeat.

"Oh!" Alice exclaimed, startling me to a halt. She giggled and reached for a stack of papers on the table, drawing out a tattered envelope from the middle of the pile.

"I forgot!" she continued. "You have a letter."

I looked down at her hand as she pushed the worn envelope my way, reaching for it carefully.

A letter?

"Who's it from?" I asked absently, looking at how it must have been rained on and beaten up in transit.

I never received mail. Pop was in the Pacific last I heard, and Renee was in the city. She'd never write.

"It's from a _Corporal Masen_," Rose said from the table, smirking.

I frowned at the name, not recognizing it.

And then my heart sped up when it clicked. I had forgotten about my New Year's letter.

And now I had received a letter from a soldier.

My pen pal had finally responded.

I smiled at the tattered brown envelope, emblazoned with numbers and letters and postage stamps.

Corporal E.A. Masen.

I had a purpose now.

~~oo~~

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**AN: letters coming up! (a lot of this story will be letter correspondence) I so wish FFn had different fonts.. sigh... you'll just have to pretend Edward's is beautifully written and Bella's is well.. chicken scratch. **

**More soon! Thanks so much for reading! **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello again my dears! From here on out, we'll be reading either letters only, or action on Bella's front. Dates are important... And history buffs, little nuances are laid out within the text and story in respect to the time period. Hope you enjoy! **

**Now the letter...**

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**~~oo~~**

_February 10__th_

_Dear Miss Swan,_

_I was not sure I would answer this letter, but I rationalized my trepidation was undoubtedly less than yours for writing to a stranger. It takes great courage to offer a bit of oneself in order to perhaps bring a little happiness into another's life. You took the time to do this for us, so it is only right that I answer in the best way I can. _

_My name is Edward Masen. _

_I am a Corporal in the 1st__ Battalion, 502nd Infantry Regiment of the United States Army. I've been in the Army for over two years now, and have been here for almost a year. We spend an inordinate amount of time drilling, sometimes in the most foul weather, but it is a test of our perseverance they say. I still would like a day when my socks aren't damp or my knapsack isn't drenched._

_I don't get much news from the States. Both of my parents died shortly before I joined so I can simply say that getting a bit of news from stateside is a luxury I have not had in some time. Receiving your letter was a very pleasant surprise.I didn't realize how much just a simple piece of paper with writing on it could mean so much. But it did, so thank you for finding the courage to do so._

_I hope you will continue to write. I will try my hardest not to bore you. _

_I am originally from Chicago, but joined the Army on my eighteenth birthday, knowing it was my duty and an honor._

_I wanted to fight for my country, especially after Pearl Harbor, but I was too young then. It seemed the logical step with my family gone. But to say that I am made for this war would be a terrible lie, and since I do not know you, I would not devalue our first encounter with deception. Joining was a means to leave behind my life, but that is perhaps another story for another time. I am a patriotic person, just lost in a foreign country missing the comforts of home. _

_You said you were living in New York. Are you from New York? I only saw it in passing as we shipped out. They crammed thousands of soldiers on a gutted luxury cruise liner. But I can tell you it was far from luxury. I have never seen so many people in one place. But maybe New York is like that? Full of people? More so than perhaps Chicago and certainly more than it is here where I am stationed. Do you have many friends where you are?_

_You also wrote that you worked in the library. Do you like to read? I am fond of the classics myself. Tennyson, Whitman and a great number of poets. I know that sounds odd, coming from a soldier. But like I said, I am not made for this life. When this war is over, nothing would make me happier than to spend some time reading in the peace and quiet of the library. We don't have the luxury of carrying books with us in the field. I miss the quiet and the smell of books. Everything here smells like dirt or sweat, or artillery rounds. _

_Do you like music? Most of the music here is a few years out of date, or only popular here. It's strange to know that just the simple span of an ocean can change everything. I miss my piano. When we found an abandoned village with one, it was so very tempting to sit and play, but you can't without risk of alerting the enemy. At least that's what our commanding officer says. __Do you play an instrument?_

_Do you go dancing with your girl friends? I hear the city has many clubs where you can go dancing and listen to good music. I miss that as well._

_If you feel inclined to write again, perhaps you could tell me a little about yourself? Having written this now, I can honestly say that you have brightened my day with your words and support. I hope to hear from you again soon. I have no idea how long letters take in transit. But I will read your letter again and again until the next one. _

_Thank you for taking the time to write. This soldier appreciates it greatly. _

_Yours truly,_

_Cpl. Edward Masen_

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**AN: More soon. Will try not to make you wait too long. :) I promise to be faster than the APO back in the 40's. Can you imagine having to wait months to get a letter from home? And sometimes never getting it because it was captured in transit?**

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again! I said I wouldn't post every day, but then I sat down and write maybe ten chapters yesterday- i am really trying to keep them short for a while so they're easy to stay on top of. **

**I am so dazzled by all your reviews and stories in regards to the era, and I am so glad you enjoyed Corporal Masen's first letter! **

**Let's see how Bella reacted to the Corporal's words...**

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_~~oo~~_

The thrill that came over me over Corporal Masen's letter was so much more than I had imagined. I felt a deep regret at having forgotten all about my pen pal. It had been over two months since I had written to a soldier, I had dismissed not receiving a correspondence too quickly.

Now, I had a tattered letter in my hands, two roommates who teased me for my enthusiastic reaction to the correspondence, and a burning desire to write this lonely soldier back immediately.

Just like that, a letter had changed my outlook on life.

Here was someone to offer hope to, simply by my words.

The words however, were harder to come by than I had imagined.

I stayed up late, struggling to write to a complete stranger who was depending on me to send him hope and encouragement. I still had real issues to deal with. I had to find a job, how to pay for my room at the boarding house. How to ignore Alice and Rosalie as they tried and succeeded in reading his words. Tried to ignore their teasing words about having written to a stranger in the first place. But all those things were trivial compared to the need to write something that made the person reading it smile and maybe for just a moment, enjoy something from home.

I laid in bed, his letter tucked under my pillow, feeling foolish for having such a strong reaction to the man on the page beneath my head. His letter had tugged at my heart.

And now more than ever, I wanted to get to know this man.

The light from the city outside was my only source of illumination as I cracked open his letter for what seemed the hundredth time.

A small stain at the top where his ink had stained, possibly from the rain.

The neat script of his words, the gentle arc of the letters in my name.

The creases sharp in the folds of the letter, as if he had folded it carefully, making sure it wouldn't become damaged in transit.

The torn corner where the envelope had been ripped away somewhere between there and here.

But it had made it. A letter, from a soldier in need.

Corporal Edward A. Masen.

I wondered what the _A._ stood for.

I wondered where he was fighting.

I wondered if he had friends in his troop. Surely at least one. I felt my heart clench once more as I read about his family. I assumed no brothers or sisters.

He was alone.

Suddenly my desperation in my life seemed trivial. My troubles were nothing compared to his.

I lay in a warm bed, dry and free the cold and the damp as the rain fell outside. I wondered if it was raining where he was. Did he have enough to eat? What did he sleep in?

A tent? A hollowed out building that he had taken with his fellow soldiers?

Had he found a girl there? Some French girl or maybe an Italian? Or maybe an English girl.

Would he do that? Like Rose's airman had?

He didn't seem the type. But then again, I knew so little.

Where was he?

What did he look like?

Maybe he was married. But he would have said that, yes?

So many questions. What could I ask and not offend?

I slipped from my bed and quietly pulled out the pen and paper from the desk drawer, settling into the seat by the window so that I could see while Rose and Alice slept peacefully a few feet away.

I couldn't help it.

I just wanted to write to him.

I needed to make this next letter better than the last.

I had so many questions.

And so much trouble putting them to paper.

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**AN: Bella's return letter next. Thank you so much for all the incredible recollections, stories and insight you have offered me in your reviews. I'm so excited that you are enjoying this!**

**More soon! yeah, probably tomorrow- lol. I can't pace myself if I tried... **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	5. Chapter 5

**Bella's return letter. History lesson in the end notes for those wondering about timelines and titbits... Keep an eye on dates, they are important in the context of the story... the year you need to figure out by the clues I leave, otherwise I'll ruin it for you when it really really matters. ;)**_  
_

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**_March 9__th_**

_Dear Edward,_

_May I call you that? Or should I address you as Corporal Masen? I don't know how this works really. You are my first pen pal and writing is not really my strength. I have always been the quiet reader in the corner of the room, far from others. It took me three tries just today to accomplish what I have written so far. I am sorry if it is difficult to read, and am overjoyed with knowing that my last letter offered you a bit of respite from your daily duties. So if you do not mind, I would like to call you Edward, like an old friend in correspondence. _

___Are you on the frontline? You haven't said what it is you do specifically. Is it something you can talk about? Do you have to fight a lot? We hear little these days, except battles won or lands taken. The only thing they seem to be consistently good at informing us of are the names of those who have died. They play newsreels at the matinee and we see all the battles we are winning, but we see very little of how the men are really doing. It rains a lot where you are? I lived in Washington most of my life before coming to New York. I understand about the damp. I am sorry for that and wish I could send you dry socks, but I suppose they would just get wet in transit._

_Since your letter, they have shut down the library. Not all libraries, but they feel it was important to consolidate and there just aren't enough resources to hire everyone who worked in the libraries. I am on the waiting list to be called in for the main library, but I am doubtful I will get placed there. I was just a filing clerk. _

_I am now searching for another job. It's difficult to find work, with the war on. At least for me. There is plenty of work if your have some skill, but I'm afraid I would ruin anything made in the factories, and the good clerical jobs are taken. We all do our part and I am meeting with someone at the Army hospital later today. I am not looking forward to it, if you must know. I don't do well with blood, and am prone to accidents, so I can only assume I will become more of a hazard than help. But it's better than sending me to the factories where I'd just end up taking off a leg or an arm, and end up in hospital anyway. This way I'm close to help should I hurt myself. _

_You are allowed to laugh at that. There really is no help for me._

_As I said, I love to read. Mostly British literature and lately have found William Saroyan, whose words bring a sense of humor and hope during this troubled time. He's just published a book that pertains to the war, and gave me the courage to write to you. _

**_"You must remember always to give, of everything you have. You must give foolishly even. You must be extravagant. You must give to all who come into your life. Then nothing and no one shall have power to cheat you of anything, for if you give to a thief, he cannot steal from you, and he himself is then no longer a thief. And the more you give, the more you will have to give."_**

_So I follow Saroyan's advice and give, sometimes foolishly but with good intentions. I would have never had the courage to write to a stranger before reading Mr. Saroyan's words. Because giving is what I have, and will offer it to someone who needs and wants it rather than letting it be stolen from me. I'm glad that I could offer you some kindness in what sounds like very deplorable conditions. _

_I don't really dance. I've never been any good at it, but I like big band music. Jimmy Dorsey and Louis Armstrong. And of course Glenn Miller. My friend saw Glenn Miller and his band at a USO ball last year. I wish I had gone but I hope he will come back soon. I hear he is in Europe playing for the troops so maybe you will have a chance to see him if you get leave. _

_ I don't play any instruments, but the idea of learning piano sounds nice. I bet you are very good at it. I'm sorry you don't get to play. I suppose it is a nice thing to dream of when this war is over though. But it sounds frightening where you are, and that you cannot play for fear of capture._

_I hope you are safe._

_And I look forward to your next letter. It brightens my day as well to receive a letter from you. _

_Your friend,_

_Bella Swan_

_P.S. You can call me Bella. I think I would like that._

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**AN: William Saroyan was the antithesis of Hemingway... another great literary from the period whom I will address coming up... If you ever get a chance to read his work (Saroyon's not Hemingways- everyone knows Hemingway) he wrote a lot about finding hope and strength in the midst of the hardships of WW2 in America. he was also a fine playwright, which is my first introduction to him in _The Time of Your Life_. The quote above is from _The Human Comedy_, published in July 1943.**

**Glenn Miller spent a lot of his time entertaining the troops. Based in near Bedford,UK he may have performed for the good boys of the 502nd while in England... I guess we'll see if Edward writes about it in a letter. Glen Miller died when his plane went missing over the English Channel on his way to play for troops in France in December of 1944...**

**more soon! **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello again! Some perspective into Bella's life and her job hunting... long AN at the end, thus the length of the chapter, LOL.**

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**March 12th**

"So you like to read?"

I dragged my eyes away from the many curtains in the room that separated the patients from the general public and tried to smile at Esme Cullen as she spoke.

"Um, yes, I worked at the library until a few days ago," I said and looked away from the wound she was dressing on the soldier in the bed. I couldn't see his face, or much of his body; it was bandaged to protect his healing wounds. He'd have a significant scar down his left side.

I swallowed and tried to breathe out of my mouth, praying I didn't pass out.

"And the reason you're not trying to get a job at the war office or one of the clerical jobs at the plants? I know that they pay well,since I lost my last two girls to them. And you don't seem the kind to want one of the jobs on the factory line," she replied, smiling when I blushed at her correct assessment of my coordination skills.

The telegraph office positions had been filled, and the idea of working on the factory line for the canned meats or whatever machinery they were making now seemed like an accident waiting to happen with me at the controls.

"My roommates work here so it was the first place to try. I'm a good clerk. I could do your paperwork quickly. I just want to help out. Especially with the soldiers."

She turned from the soldier she was working on to look at me, her eyes taking me in studiously before shaking her head.

"You're not fond of hospitals. I can tell by your squeamishness."

"Oh, no," I said quickly. "I'm very fond of hospitals. I'm just not very fond of blood, or death, or the smell of alcohol. I'm a regular client."

Esme tilted her head to the side and smirked. She had forgotten all about the poor man whose wound lay exposed while her hand hovered over it with the bandage. I concentrated on her warm brown eyes in order not to let my gaze wander to the hole in the soldier's side.

Already I was feeling lightheaded.

This was a bad idea.

But I needed this job. I had woken up this morning with an intense need to do something to help out. Working at the war hospital was important, I knew. And I felt like I needed to be here, doing anything.

I could handle a little blood.

Maybe.

"And you said you liked to read."

I nodded, a little unsure what she was thinking.

"I think I know where I can put you that will do an enormous bit of good," she said and nodded to her assistant as she stood, letting the younger nurse take over for the dressing while Esme directed me towards a staircase in the hallway.

"You don't have an issue with reading aloud do you?" she asked, her voice echoing off the stairwell as we climbed.

"No ma'am," I replied, knowing I did but if it took me from bloody wounds, I'd recite Shakespeare with a fluffy hat and sword if need be.

"You'll work in the offices for four hours a day then, helping me keep track of medical records and reports. Writing to families, that sort of thing. But for a couple of hours a day, I need help with morale. I've done my best, but I can't do it all. I am more helpful with what you saw. I need you to do this so we can boost these soldiers hopes," she said as she neared the fourth floor.

"What do you need me to do?"

She smiled and touched my cheek, like my mom did when she was about to tell me something profound.

"I need you to read to them."

She continued up the stairs as I stared after her, stunned that there was a job that well suited for me. It took me only a second before I was scrambling up the stairs to catch up.

"Understand these men I am bringing you to are just back from battle. Many of them are suffering from what they have seen, some won't ever talk to you," she said and reached the top of the landing, pausing at a set of double doors. "But I think it's important that they hear someone's voice, and interact with a real human being before we eve consider letting them go home. They need a gentle spirit to bring them back home. Do you think you can be a kind voice to some troubled young men?"

Instantly I thought of Corporal Masen, and how he was alone, somewhere in Europe. Or maybe the Pacific. I didn't know. All I knew was that he had enjoyed my words.

So perhaps these men would find some pleasure in my words as well. I'd just have to get used to talking to people. And having them maybe talk back.

"I can do this," I replied, and earned an endearing smile from Mrs. Cullen before she turned towards the doors and showed me inside the ward.

It was a large room, one that was quiet and a different kind of lonely as I looked at large bank of windows didn't seem to bring in a warmth of light. Perhaps it was only the grey skies outside and the rain.

Men, some bandaged, some simply lying under covers, many unable to get out of bed, lay in two long rows along the ward. So many men, all with a certain pain in their eyes as Esme led me in. I noticed a few nurses walking around, checking the men for their health.

But the room was deathly quiet.

Eerily quiet.

"Gentlemen, I thought perhaps you'd like my new friend Bella to read to you," Esme announced, her voice instantly warming up the room just in its noise.

Several eyes fell on me, and I could feel my face heating up at their scrutiny. Some with steely glares, some vacant and lost as if they weren't seeing me, but someone else. A few never even acknowledged Esme.

"They're all yours," Esme whispered and picked up a book from a chair near the center of the room. "I've been reading Hemingway to them. We left off on chapter ten."

I nodded and sat down, looking over the book, curious as to Esme's choice.

_A Farewell to Arms. _

I wasn't a fan of Hemingway's but given his style to writing the vulgarities of war, perhaps this was what the men could associate with. I found him to be nothing short of a showy peacock behind a pen, but what did I know what men liked.

I thought again of Tennyson. Corporal Masen enjoyed Tennyson.

That made me smile.

Perhaps, if they liked the way I read, the next book could be works of Tennyson. Maybe some of the legend of King Arthur.

I cleared my throat, the noise sounding so harsh as it echoed off the cement walls and glass of the windows.

And began to read.

For the men in the room, I gave to them what I wished I could give to Corporal Masen wherever he was.

I offered a little escape from reality. At least for a little while.

I was going to like this job.

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**AN: Bella's reference to Tennyson- ****_Idylls of the King and _****Hemingway's****_ Farewell to Arms _****(how many of you had to read that in school? *raises hand***

**Some of you had commented, quite correctly, that there was a huge wealth of jobs for young women at the time this is set... Lots of clerical jobs for young women were well sought after... and Bella could have gotten one had she looked harder. She gets the job at the hospital a few days after losing the job at the library. She is also rather introverted. She doesn't do social things (she hates going to the USO dances, prefers her quiet library with her non opinionated books, etc) so to get a job working in a busy office like a press office or the like, scares her almost as much as stitching up wounds. **

**Esme sees this... and perhaps... by reading to these men, many of which are catatonic or unresponsive for the most part, Esme is providing Bella the opportunity to open up while doing good. **

**As awesome as it would have been to have Rose (HAHAHA ROSIE) and Alice and Bella riveters on the factory line or welders in overalls... nurses... they did a world of good and were so essential... you'll see... faith...**

**more soon my dears! **

**MWAH!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello all! I know you all wanted to hear from Edward... well it takes a while to get a letter from where he's at... so we'll stick with Bella for a little bit. **

**Hope to have some word from Cpl. Masen perhaps this weekend. I gave you a little more tonight because I won't be updating tomorrow. *sad face* **

**History lesson at the end. Not really related to this chapter... much :)**

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I spent my first day at the Army hospital reading and getting to know the soldiers in the ward I was assigned to.

I wondered if there were other women like me in those other wards. Surely I was not the only one reading to the soldiers who were stuck in their beds, some unable to read themselves because of their injuries, some still unconscious from whatever ailed them.

The men didn't speak to me at first, simply letting me read and grow comfortable in the quiet space with them, a dozen in all. I had just started chapter fourteen when I heard the choked whimper from the far end of the room. My voice stuttered to a stop mid sentence.

"He'll do that for a minute and then settle down," the man beside me whispered, his voice rough like he suffered from laryngitis. When I looked over at him, I understood why. He had a long shining scar running down the length of his throat, jagged and puffy where his adams apple should have been.

My eyes slid up quickly to his face, where his dark eyes met mine and he smiled.

"It's okay, I'm used to the looks. Yours was much less alarmed than my Leah," he said, voice like sandpaper.

"Who's Leah?" I asked dumbly. As soon as I said it, I knew.

His smile slipped and he looked away.

"Doesn't matter now," he grated and coughed from the effort.

"I'm sorry," I rushed out and moved closer to him, unsure what I could do to help his coughing. He shook his head and raised his arm slightly. It was then that I noticed it was too short for his body.

So much lost from these men. Pieces strewn on the battlefield. They came back broken.

"It's not so bad," he whispered and nodded over to the bed beside him where a man lay unconscious. "At least I still have my legs. And my good hand. He has nothing, not even his mind."

I turned away from the sight of the amputee that lay there, seemingly asleep.

"I'm Sam. Sam Uley," the hoarse man whispered.

"Bella," I replied.

He smiled and nodded.

"You'll get used to us. We're not so bad. We're just a little worse for wear."

My new friend Sam whispered in his broken voice for some time with me, telling me the names of the men around him he knew. He had been in the ward for almost a month, and had seen many come and go.

I made my rounds, speaking quietly with a few men, sad to see that only those few were alert enough to speak and tell me their names.

Jacob, James, Eric, and Laurent- a Canadian soldier who was here because this was the first place to go before they shipped him home.

The rest stared at me with vacant eyes or lay unconscious.

The man who had been whimpering had in fact quieted down, curled up in his bed and rubbing his head where a large scar was still healing.

As I was walking out, I heard my name called out softly and I looked back to see Sam, Jacob and James watching me.

"You'll be back tomorrow, right, Bella?" Jacob asked, his eyes bright with eager anticipation.

I smiled and nodded, swallowing down the lump in my throat over his desperate need to see someone like me again.

"I'll be back tomorrow. Maybe with a few choices to read from," I said and waved to the men, hearing their quiet thank yous as the door closed.

My second day brought me a bit of sadness, reading softly to those soldiers who lay quietly in their beds, unseeing from vacant eyes or unconscious and oblivious to my presence. But the ones who could speak and interact seemed happy that I was there.

I went home that night with a sense of accomplishment at seeing a few of the men smile as I sat beside them, offering to read their letters or write to their loved ones.

I hoped it did them some good.

All the while I thought of Corporal Masen. And where he must be. And wondered if he was writing me again.

I spent most of the night at our little table, writing another letter. Because it was something I could do and feel like I could make a difference in one soldier's life.

Would he feel strangely when he received the few I had already sent? I had written just last evening, and feared that they might confiscate it if it were too thick. So I had separated it into three shorter letters, and mailed them at each post stop on the way to the hospital.

I hoped he enjoyed them. I frowned at the thought that perhaps he'd regret writing me, learning that I was now sending him pages of prose from Tennyson, or simple words about me or the city as I saw it while I walked to the hospital.

Maybe it was too much.

I paused over the letter I was currently writing, deciding to make it short, two pages only, front and back. God only knew where he would have to keep them.

Would he mind all those letters?

I was fairly sure he might find them comforting, based on his one and only letter he had sent me. So I started another letter.

The eighth one to him.

But I wasn't counting.

_~~oo~~_

**_March 15th_**

_Dear Edward,_

_I felt the urge to write you again, knowing that perhaps more letters would brighten your day. The thought came to me today as I read to a soldier here at the hospital. I started working at the war hospital two days ago, and I am so happy that I did. _

_Esme, who manages the girls here, found me the perfect place for me and I don't have to see that much blood, to which I am thankful. I sit with the soldiers brought here for recovery. I'll admit that it breaks my heart though. Today I read to a soldier who has not woken up since his injury. They say he has gotten better and expect him to wake up eventually, so I have hope. I sit there and pretend he is asleep, because the thought that he can't hear me seems sad. _

_I sat there today to read him passages from a book that the men in the recovery wing enjoy to hear. It's by Hemingway, whom they seem to have an affinity for. Some of them enjoy listening to the words and the adventures Hemingway writes about, while others look off in deep thought. Esme says it helps them, my reading to them. _

_So as I walked home today, I knew I had to keep writing to you. For many reasons. _

_One was to give you a bit of joy in receiving mail. To see some of them in the ward when the mail call is given, I understand now how important it is. Letters seem to make them happy, so I hope I can do the same for you. I hope you are not overwhelmed by the few that I have already sent. I am not usually this verbose, so I apologize if they are more than you expected. _

_I don't know how quickly these get to you, but I hope that you receive them in a timely manner. It would be a shame for you to have to wait weeks for news from home. But I guess that is the nature of war. And not knowing where you are, I wonder how they get letters to the men deeply entrenched behind enemy lines. I hope you are close to a base so it is easy. _

_I wanted to let you know that I think about you, and hope that you are safe. I don't want to think about the dangers you must face, having listened to some talk about the weather you must deal with and the battles going on now. I don't know whether coming to work in this ward was better or worse. I am reminded of you and how it must be there, and then as much as it would be nice to have you come back, I would never wish it if it meant coming to this ward. _

_Better to come back home whole. _

_Write to me when you can. I know you are busy and it must be difficult to write with everything else you must do. I will continue to write and wish you well. _

_Your friend,_

_Bella_

~~oo~~

* * *

**AN: I work a lot on the Queen Mary here in So Cal... during the war, she was outfitted as a transport ship- taking soldiers and supplies (and mail) to Europe and bringing them back again (the return trips during the war transporting the wounded to ports like NY where those men ended up in hospitals if needed, or on trains to hometowns... She could outrun the German subs, as well as any torpedo they shot at her. It took her 4 days to cross the Atlantic.**

**Stripped of her luxurious state rooms, the QM (The Grey Ghost) housed as many as many as 15,000 men, forcing them to take shifts on deck while others ate or slept. Bunks were stacked 4 high in every corner of the ship that they could muster. No privacy, no comfort in the high seas as the Grey Ghost sped towards battle. Imagine having to stand on the deck in the middle of December for four days crossing the Atlantic, with only 8-10 hours out of the elements. **

**Churchill took the Grey Ghost to the US on a secret meeting once or twice- she was the safest ship to speed across the Pond in.**

**I was back at the Queen today and the feelings I had, seeing the old photos, and the display bunks these men slept on... so much awe at what they went thru. **

**More soon! **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello my dears! Waiting can me be the hardest part... especially when you don't know the events your pen pal might be dealing with...**

**We seem to like the History lesson at the end- I'll see what I can come up with. :)**

* * *

**April 12****th**

"You're so impatient! It takes time to get letters to him, and he's fighting. I doubt he has time to sit and pen a letter when he's fighting the Germans... or whoever," Rose said, muttering some more under her breath as she drew the line down the back of her legs with precision.

She had faking silk stockings to a science.

"I know, I just," I stammered, feeling her knowing smirk directed at me.

"A little crush on your soldier, and with only just one letter?"

"No," I shot back, embarrassed.

But really I did think about Edward Masen a lot. Even if I knew nothing about him.

Except Tennyson and music and reading.

He sounded nice.

And after working with the wounded men in the ward for almost a month, I had to wonder what he was like in person.

Was it so bad that I wanted to hear from him again, just to know he was safe?

It had been over a month since his first letter. I had no idea if I would even ever receive another letter.

He might choose not to write. He might have been….

"You have to give him time. He might be on some secret mission," she continued and added a little more lipstick to her plump lips. "You may not hear from him for months, depending on his assignments."

Rose's glib attitude didn't help bolster mine. If anything, it depressed me more.

Months?

"I see you always writing," she continued, and pushed her breasts a little higher in her dress. "Are they all for him or do you have a dozen Marines we don't know about?"

I scowled at her and turned away towards my bed.

Only one soldier was getting my written words.

"Are you sure you don't want to come? I hear they have a great big band there tonight, and maybe you can meet a nice sailor or Marine to distract you from your army boy," she asked.

I slumped into my bed, Edward's first and only letter tucked under my pillow for private reading.

"No, I'm tired. You have fun. And make sure Alice doesn't agree to marry anyone again," I said, smiling when I noticed Rose roll her eyes.

"No guarantees, she falls for anyone with a southern accent and a nice smile," she retorted. "I doubt there'll be any cuties there or flyboys. There'll all over there."

I didn't know how to ease Rose's sadness. After Royce left and died on a bombing mission, she was more guarded at whom she dated. It hadn't helped that we later learned he had slept with half of Europe. Alice and I had never liked Royce. He was one of those ladies men who had a woman in every port.

Rose was better off without him.

It still didn't bury her pain at his death.

"Hey," she said, drawing my attention back to her. She eyed me with that look that told me she was being completely sympathetic to my feelings. "You have a life to live too. You deserve happiness just as much as those boys you read to. And your army boy. Promise me you'll come out one night?"

I smiled and nodded, waving to her weakly as she closed the door behind her.

And then I pulled out my pen and paper.

And I wrote.

This made me happy, regardless of what anyone else thought. I had found a new part of me that discovered writing was an easier way to open up than simply face to face.

The men in the ward had certainly tried. And because it made them smile and laugh, I allowed some of my awkwardness to show. Sam was the ring leader it seemed, and since I had connected with him, he seemed to be able to hold the younger men back. All had scars, both physical and mental. Sam made sure they understood that I was there to offer them comfort, just not the kind they might want.

After the first week, I had told him about my pen pal. He had smiled that sad smile and whispered that Corporal Masen was a lucky man to receive letters from me. He had cherished his letters from home. So when the girl back home had stopped writing, he had lost hope.

Perhaps it was Sam's confession about losing hope that made me write more.

It was all right that Corporal Masen had not written me back.

I had to keep telling myself that.

As much as I knew that hope traveled both ways in the letters, I could glean hope in my boys in my ward.

Edward had only me.

I wouldn't stop writing.

And have him lose hope like Sam.

I just wished I'd hear news soon.

Because my hope wavered when I was at home alone, with only his one letter to read over and over.

* * *

**_AN: I'd be impatient too. Almost two months since his last letter. Patience, Bella. I'm sure he's been busy. _**

**_Silk was one of the primary items being rationed during war time. Rubber, tin, steel... many things that we take for granted today people on the home front gave up so the the machines of war could be made. _**

**_Silk- used for the parachutes for our paratroopers. On D-Day, many hours before the invasion on the beaches, thousands of men jumped from planes to lead in to the invasion that would turn the tides of the war. These men jumped into the dark, over a clouded countryside, with only the basic items that would get them through the next couple of days. A compass, a map of the territory, basic rations, a knife to cut them out of their shoot should they get caught in trees, and their weapon. By giving up those silk stockings and the like, we were giving our boys a means to slip in behind enemy lines and help with the invasion. _**

**_Women often drew lines up their legs to make it appear that they had silk stockings on, but did their part for the boys overseas by going without... _**

**_So perhaps... Rose is helping out more than she knows. _**

**_more soon! I promised a letter from Edward this weekend. we will get one :)_**

**_MWAH!_**

**_steph_**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello All! watch the dates of posts and letters, you'll see that with some, Edward's letters may be behind in actual time for Bella. Obviously, that is because of the lag in getting to her. So while the last post was April 12th, this one is earlier because it is his letter. You'll see in the next post when she actually gets this. **

**There is a purpose to this way of posting. You'll have to pay attention to dates, especially in context of the time in history. There will be a lot of times that Bella's letters and Edward's letters pass one another in transit, where his responses may seem old news to some of what she is asking in letters we see her write... **

**History lesson at the end pertaining to things in this post. Enjoy! **

* * *

**_April 2nd_**

_Dear Bella,_

_I came in from the field today and was greeted with four of your letters! I cannot tell you just how much it meant to me to hear my name called out and to receive a stack of letters, rather than not hearing my name at all. My pals in my unit are quite envious. You have a real honest to goodness fan club here. _

_Do you have friends who might enjoy writing also?_

_My friend Jasper asks, and to be honest, it would be nice if he got his own letters, so he stopped looking over my shoulder while I read yours. He's a good friend, but he spends too much time worrying about other people, and it would be nice for him to worry about someone other than me. _

_My other friend, Emmett is looking for someone to correspond with as well, although to be honest, I had no idea he could even write before this week. Aside from dime novels with pictures, I never see him read. But he's a good man, and has gotten me out of a few jams, so it's the least I can do to see him with a pen pal. If you have anyone who can handle an overbearing, muscle-brained oaf with a big heart, Emmett's their man. _

_You asked what I do. I'm not sure how much I can say, except that I am in a special division of the _**_XXXXXXXX_**_ Infantry__** XXXXXXXX**__. But don't be worried. I've been at this for over a year. And my unit is the best there is and know how to keep our heads down. We have trained hard for what we do, and have no intentions of losing a man to battle before this war is over, which we all hope__** XXXXXXXXX**__. We are a tightknit group of hardy men, picked and weeded out for this job because of our mettle. Some of us have been here since __**XXXXXXXXXXX**__; the need is great enough that they have not sent my Captain home in **XXX** years. They transferred him into our company when they combined the__** XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**__ He was in __**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXX XXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**__. So he knows his salt. I'm proud to serve under him and know he'll make the right decisions for us in the heat of battle. _

_I'm sorry you lost your job at the library, but I am sure the soldiers you read to are far happier for your company than a building full of books. It sounds like you are doing a great service, and I am glad the woman you work with found you that job. Morale is important, and I am sure a pretty, young lady reading Hemingway is quite a morale boost, even though I agree, they could hear something better than Hemingway. I am sure just your presence is enough to make them smile. _

_I must say I am jealous of the men you read to. I don't know what you look like, but I am sure you are beautiful inside and out and have many men wishing they had your heart._

_If not to sound too presumptuous, may I ask if you are married or seeing someone? Is he a soldier too? Or are you unmarried? _

_Because now my mind worries that you are surrounded by soldiers the likes of which are probably scoundrels. Don't believe them when they say they could love you. We're all very lonely men who would prey on a kind lady's affections in a heartbeat. Soldier's hearts have no room for morals and many men would never treat you with the respect you deserve from your kind heart. _

_Of course you are safe with me, I am here, and you are safe at home. We will more than likely never meet. But those men in the hospital. Keep a watchful eye on them. _

_You asked if I was married. I am not. _

_No girls back home, and we honestly have very little time here to search anyone out, even on leave. I know a few boys in the flight crews have steady dames, but I don't think I could in good conscience lead a lady on for my own pleasure when death could be just around the corner for me. I am in the minority I suppose, but I when I pledge myself to a woman I want to guarantee to her that I will be there to protect her and provide for her, and I have seen too many here receive that dreaded letter from a girl back home stating that they had moved on. _

_I could not expect a girl to wait for me, only to lose hope and possibly myself in the process. _

_You are the first girl I have had more than a simple conversation with, and sometimes I wonder if we did not have the safe barrier of letters and an ocean between us, would we have even struck up conversation with one another. I think sometimes it would be nice to think so, but then I know I would have to rely on you to start conversation, just as you did here. I am miserable at speaking with ladies. _

_I don't know why I just wrote that. I hope I didn't offend you. Please forgive me if I did. I am not very good at explaining myself. You have offered me much in your letters, I feel I know you and perhaps that is new and a little unnerving for me. I am very thankful for your honesty and hope that you are not offended by mine. Your letters and your friendship are much appreciated. _

_I will try and write again. I am sorry I have not written more, and now that I have received your letters, I promise to do so more often if I can. With so many drills and exercises in the last few months, it is difficult to sleep let alone write, but I will try. It sounds like you enjoy it as much as I do when you receive a letter, and that makes me happy to have done this. I hope that the length of this letter is proof of just how much I enjoyed your letters. You are possibly the best morale boost this soldier has had in quite some time. _

_We are on leave for a couple __**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**__. It's still cold here, and raining every day. They say that is typical here. I have never been to Washington, I am glad you are in New York were you might be seeing the true brilliance of spring. We__** XXXXXXXXXXXXX**__ into a field of tulips just last week, and it was the most glorious sight to see. So much yellow and red and green. Unspoilt by night bombings or soldier's feet, except now for our own. _

_But your letters offer a little sunshine to this soldier's day. And now I have several to carry with me to light my way. _

_Thank you for writing to me. I look forward to every word you send. _

_Yours truly,_

_Edward_

_P.S. Thank you for allowing me to call you Bella. I think I like it also. It is a beautiful name, and one of the only words I know in Italian. It means Beautiful, of which I am sure you knew. And are. _

* * *

**AN: So the XXXXX's represent the censorship that happened often in letters to and from soldiers. **

**Ever heard the term "Loose Lips Sink Ships"? This was a standard saying in many war Propaganda posters here. **

**Censorship in letters during war time started most commonly back in the Civil War. Any discussion of troop where abouts, tactics or the like were often cut out or blacked out. **

**Come WW2, it was ingrained in the soldiers to watch what they said. If intercepted into enemy hands, an entire mission could be lost because of simple discussion to a loved one. It was often written by soldiers "I can't say what we're doing, but don't worry..." **

**Censors were often supervising officers or the chaplain of a unit. If they found something suspect, they would cut it out or black it out so as not to lend to the possibility of falling into the wrong hands. Some censors were more involved than others, and would cut out more than might have been necessary. So oftentimes, letters to loved ones might be perceived as boring. simple news and talk about feelings- but this was an important look into the psyche of those soldiers too. Many wrote about their fears and wishes to be home. You could tell alot about their morale by reading. **

**Censorship stopped shortly after the Korean War, when it was deemed too much expense to maintain and that most of the time, soldiers acted accordingly. You can find a lot of archived letters by researching the Military historical Post society. American Experience also has a nice section on War Letters, if you woudl like more info. **

**So the XXXX's are my attempt at the blacking out of possible sensitive materials. We'll learn more about that coming up. Did Edward screw up by writing those things. Maybe, maybe not. But it was a means for me to leave a few more clues as to what he does. I'm cruel i know that I don't just spit it out. But we won't know until Bella knows.**

**And don't be too sad about Edward's stand offish approach to relationships. He has a reason... but will probably fail miserably at trying to keep his emotional distance from Bella. Can Edward EVER stand to be away from her? even by letter? yeah, not a chance. **

**There's a group on Facebook now for this story(called Letters to Corporal Masen), if you'd like to see pics, discuss, and see some of the historical footage I have watched/read for this story:**

**www dot facebook dot com/groups/463648170336030/**

**more soon! **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello again all and Happy Labor Day! I will be switching over to posts ever couple of days starting tomorrow, just so I can catch up and prepare for the next few posts... DUN DUN DUUUHN! no no... nothing horrific. but I have a busy week at work and I am a little slow on keeping ahead of the curve on the story. So I want to be sure I don't lag more than a couple days. **

**You won't even notice... really... ;)**

**So..just remember- keep looking at the dates. And I am so appreciative of the wonderful reviews and stories ya'll are sharing! It's like remembering history and making it more tangible with so many of the stories you have shared. :)**

**So let's see how Bella took his letter, shall we?**

* * *

**May 5****th**

I looked over the letter again, my heart speeding at the last lines that he wrote. I had been saddened by his views on love, but he had won me over again with his last few lines.

_It means Beautiful, of which I am sure you knew. And are._

But I was confused by the blackened out portions.

Had he said something that was top secret? I had seen the letters from some of the soldiers in the ward, how their family members' letters had been blacked out or cut apart. Removing anything that might give information to the enemy. I understood the reasoning.

I had seen the posters and the newsreels telling us not to leak information.

_Loose Lips Might Sink Ships._ The posters at the hospital and the war office frightened me. Who would do that? And risk our boys' safety?

Surely whatever Edward had written hadn't been dangerous.

But these black marks made Edward's letter seem foreign somehow. And invaded upon.

My second letter from him and so many of his words were taken from me!

It felt like _he _was being taken from me in those few words I was not allowed to read.

How much of mine was censored?

And who read them before he got them? I felt invaded.

I hated this war.

But I would never say that in a letter. Who knew what that would do?

"Ohh! He's asking for pen pals for his friends?"

I jumped at Alice's voice, having not heard her come in. She plopped on my bed and eyed the letter with her usual curious excitement.

"Do you think his friends are cute?" she continued, ignoring my scowl at having been intruded upon.

"I don't even know what he looks like, Alice," I muttered and folded up the letter.

"You haven't asked? Bella! He could be ugly! Or old!" she said, shocked.

I let out a frustrated huff and slid off the bed, Edward's letter held tight in my hand.

"He's not old. He joined when he was eighteen, a couple years ago. It doesn't matter, we're just pen pals, Alice," I said, thinking again about what he had said about being single and not searching out a love interest.

It left me feeling a little bereft. I was a friend. A pen pal and nothing more.

She grinned and rolled around in my bed, bunching her dress up a little as she wiggled.

"It could be a lot more," she sang and clasped her hands to her breast as she rocked back and forth.

"I don't think so, Alice," I replied. "I hardly know him."

"I know," she said, humming. "Isn't it so romantic?"

Rose walked in just in time to hear the last of Alice's sentence.

"What's romantic?" she asked warily.

"Bella and her_ corporal_," Alice replied. "He could be the one."

Rose snorted and looked at me with her cool unwavering look of detachment.

"He's sent you what? Two letters? You don't even know him," she said and I nodded in agreement.

"He's not interested in a love interest, Alice. He's just hoping for letters. A correspondence friend, that's all."

"He has friends who want pen pals," Alice continued, still rolling around in my bed. "We should write to them!"

"I'm not writing to some lonely and probably horny soldier," Rose argued.

Alice stopped rolling around and pouted.

"It's our patriotic duty, haven't you seen the posters?" she asked. "Bella is a patriot for writing to Corporal what's his name. Write to keep them smiling, they say. "

Rose narrowed her eyes at Alice. Alice had played the good, patriotic American card. And Rose was the quintessential good American girl.

"Fine."

"Yay!" Alice exclaimed and plucked the letter from my hands, looking at the names Edward had given. "I get Jasper. You can have Emmett. He's big and strong and a hero. Just your type."

"Fine," Rose replied, exasperated.

We sat up that night writing letters to the men, my heart feeling a little better at the idea that Edward's letter parcel would be a little thicker, and hopefully nothing blacked out of it from my side.

And while I had imagined some kind of romaticized love affair with a soldier from afar, his words having hurt a little about simply needing a friend to write to, I knew I could do that for him.

I could do anything for him.

It was my duty.

Correspondence friend only.

I could do that. Surely.

I let out a defeated sigh and dove into writing something to inspire.

Even if _I_ felt a little uninspired.

* * *

**AN:Poor Bella. Don't give up hope. He has your heart in mind when he is trying to distance (darn you New Moon EDWARD!) LOL, no Corporal Masen won't be going to Rio- or Italy looking to commit suicide- he won't be leaving Bella in the woods- but this is Corporal Masen's equivalent. Doomed relationship, he thinks... Doesn't Edward ALWAYS think that. Silly boy, you cannot defeat true love! (shuts off Princess Bride before I get into trouble)**

**So a few of you were very excited over the tulips clue... hehehehehe... tricked you. **

**Did you know that just outside of Norfolk, England they grow acres upon of tulips? Tulips are best known to grow in the Netherlands, tis true... but there was a thriving industry of tulip growers in England. tulips came to England in the early 1600's and became a thriving business to compete with high prices in Amsterdam by the mid 1600's. They are grown in Narborough, in Norfolk... not far from the air base there where RAF pilots learned to fly their bombers. A good place for pilots to learn take off, touch and go and for learning to drop paratroopers... **

**I will admit I don't know how large the fields were during the war. I can imagine they may have been abandoned or even dug under in exchange for growing food for the British or even the troops. But in this story... in Norfolk, it was an excellent drop zone for some young men learning to jump out of a plane in different conditions than they may have found themselves in at Ft. Benning, GA. Army pilots needed to learn how to fly in English cross currents, under foggy or cloudy conditions. **

**Airborne units trained for several months in the north, near Liverpool. Landing on the beaches and in the fields. All in preparation of that giant leap on D-Day...**

**Imagine landing in a sea of red and yellow flowers. **

**There's an interesting bit of beauty in the middle of an ugly war, eh? A little bit of peace and beauty before the worst begins. **

**More soon! **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello Again! I want to give a big thank you to all those that voted for LtCM at the Lemonade Stand for Fic of the Week. You guys truly are the best readers and I am in awe of your dedication and support. MWAH!**

**So this is just a reminder that some of these dates may look off, because they are documented as the dates that Edward wrote them and not necessarily when Bella gets them... Just to help you out here. She received his April 2nd letter on May 5th...**

* * *

**_April 6__th_**

_Dear Bella,_

_I feel the need to apologize for my letter I sent a few days ago. I have no idea how you might take it, but Jasper says you may feel hurt by my insensitive words. It is just further proof at why I fail at anything involving other people's feelings, and perhaps why I thought enlisting as I did would serve a better purpose. _

_I did not mean to devalue our friendship by alluding that you were simply someone to which I would correspond with and that it did not mean more to me. Your letters mean more to me than anything I have known. I cannot explain it. When the afternoon arrives when I am on base, and I hear the announcement of mail call, I feel an adrenaline rush at the possibility of hearing my name called. _

_Your letters are the singular thing that enables me to work harder, strive to succeed in our assignments, if only to get back to see if there is a new letter from you, telling me about your day or what you are doing. I cherish every word, and am selfish to want more from you. _

_I dread going out on assignment now, whereas before it was what I knew. _

_Now, I feel that every moment we drill is meant for something greater. And it keeps me close to the mail service, so that I can receive your letters that much sooner. Today I received your March 13__th__ letters. It feels spectacular to receive more than one, and you made me smile today when you admitted in this latest volley that you separated them out so that I could be the envy of my unit. You have no idea how that makes me feel. _

_You make me feel important, and I have missed that. I have not felt that way in a long while. _

_Jasper has insisted that I correct my statement about not wanting a girl of my own to pine away while I am at war. He is ever the romantic. But I meant some of what I said. I could not bear to leave a girl behind should I die here. I distance myself for a purpose, to which he says I am insensitive, and some other words that I will not share with you because you are a lady and shouldn't be subjected to his foul language. _

_But if I were to have a girl to love, and love me back, I would want one like you. Your kindness has made me hope for a reason to come home. I would be the luckiest man alive to find a girl such as you. The man who captures your heart will be a very lucky man indeed. Do not offer it lightly. Make sure the man you give your heart to is worth it. Don't squander it away only to be left starving for the attention and care you deserve._

_I hope I don't offend you by saying that. I apologize if I do and hope that it does not interfere with your intent to continue to write. I think it was important to let you know that you have made an impact on my life, and I appreciate all that you do and give. _

_Jasper and Emmett of course would like me to transition this awkward letter with a request that if you choose to stop writing to me, they would be happy to receive your letters, and promise not to put a foot in their mouth as I have. I have such great friends here, that they would gladly take up where I have failed. It's what we do here. _

_Pick up and stand in for one another._

_I would of course still read those letters, as Jasper has done with mine with every one of your letters. So I suppose I would still benefit from it, only I would lose your friendship that I hope you feel you can reciprocate. I suppose that is my attempt at pleading for you to keep writing to me, and that your friendship means more to me than I can put into words. _

_I should just throw this letter away rather than send it to you. But then, I know I would regret that, knowing all that you have told me. You have been nothing but honest and willing to offer me again and again a kindness I have rarely seen._

_Please forgive my wandering mind. Please, if you can, write to me again. _

_Your words are special to me. And I won't embarrass you or myself with talk about love, or relationships or the like if that makes it easier. No matter what Jasper says. He's the romantic, and a true southern gentleman. I am just a soldier with a new outlook on my future. _

_I do not have a death wish anymore. I want to come home. _

_You make me want to come home. _

_Please don't give up on me for my careless and insensitive words. _

_Yours truly,_

_Edward_

* * *

**AN: Poor Edward. Feeling guilty for a few days after his no relationships letter, only to get it from Jasper too. **

**So how did Bella get news about the war? This lesson is about the movies (radio and newpapers were important too, but this AN is long enough,lol)**

**Back in the 40's many people went to the movies not just to see the newest Hollywood movie, but to see real news from the front. With Hollywood jumping into the war effort (many popular actors served during the war, including Frank Capra, Clark Gable and James Stewart) with producing war documentaries and training films, the Office of War Information coordinated providing footage and news for Americans at home. And those at home had money to use to go to the movies. With rationing and good paying jobs, more people went to the movies than ever before for their entertainment. Costing about 34 cents, one could see a film(often double features), the news reels before the main feature and a cartoon in between the movie(often made as a statement to the war effort like buying war bonds- Warner Brothers and Disney supported the war effort with cartoon shorts and training videos)**

**Newsreels brought a picture to the war, something that had never been done before. The precursor to our CNN and Breaking News Twitter time line started as newsreels before the movie (no previews of the next blockbuster, no.)**

**You can find vintage newsreels and Propaganda cartoons on You Tube if you'd like to see what Bella and the girls might have seen when they went to the movies to go see Casablanca, National Velvet or perhaps a Tarzan movie- or a new movie style called Film Noir that began in the early 40's. Hollywood worked hard to provide entertainment in a time of war- filming approximately 270 films a year (as opposed to the average 140 a year we do today). it was about providing an escape from our daily worries more than ever. **

**whew... that was long, and very generalized. It's a topic that you could write a textbook about, just for the wartime news media...**

**We'll see some more Bella next time. See how she deals with Edward and his newest letter. Thanks so much for all the reviews and stories of your own! I love how much this little story is bring back history! **

**More soon! **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello again! So let's see how Bella handles that letter, shall we?**

* * *

**May 9th**

"Bella," Alice whined, trying to win me over with her doe eyes.

"I don't feel like going out, Alice. I'm trying to save my money," I replied and fidgeted with the book in my hands as I lay in my bed.

She stared me down, the doe quickly replaced with a hawk.

"Bella, you save more money than any of us. How much did you put into the war bonds this week?" she asked.

I simply shrugged. I hadn't realized she had noticed.

"Bella, you hardly eat, you haven't bought a new dress since you moved here. And you never go out with us. Come on. We're not going to the dance tonight. Just a matinee this afternoon and maybe an early supper at the diner," she reasoned.

I was hungry. Mrs. Cope, our landlady and cook for all of us the boarding house was not the best of cooks.

Rose stepped in from the bathroom, dressed in a nice day outfit and her hair was pulled up.

"Did she say yes?" she asked, looking at Alice while she slid her shoes on.

"No, she's being stubborn," Alice pouted.

"I'm not being stubborn. I just don't feel like seeing a movie today," I reasoned.

"Or any day," Alice muttered.

"I went with you to the Lassie movie," I countered and slid down a little further in my bed.

"If she doesn't want to come, fine," Rose said and straightened her hat on her head. "But I won't be the one to tell you what they show us on the newsreels."

The newsreels were the only tangible chance for us to see what was going on overseas, and now that Alice and Rose were writing to Edward's friends, they were suddenly very concerned about what they might be doing. The radio news briefs were far too brief to tell us anything, and the paper Mrs. Cope received every day seemed outdated. I was sure it had the most up to the minute news they could get, but I just felt a disconnect. Seeing it at the movies brought a lot more to the homefront.

I shouldn't have been this concerned, in truth.

I had tried without success to try and stave off my feelings for my corporal.

I had volunteered for more shifts at the hospital, feeling more useful there than alone in the room. But every moment I had a chance to sit and think, I was thinking of him, and feeling the pain of his last letter a little more each time.

It was difficult to explain. I hadn't felt this forlorn over anyone.

But I felt a little lost. Enough that Sam the boys had noticed and requested a radio in their ward. Esme had gladly pulled her own from her house, saying it would do better good in the ward than there. The last couple of days, we had listened to some of the radio shows and music.

Music reminded me of Edward.

There was no getting away from him.

Which perhaps was why it hurt so much. I didn't have the permission to care this much, and yet I couldn't stop.

"We'll be back before the post arrives," Rose said, looking at me sternly.

"Fine," I groaned and slid out of bed, smoothing my dress I had been wearing.

"That's better," Alice said, smiling brightly.

"I just don't want to be out too long," I said, following them down the stairs and outside.

"I promise," Rose said and reached for my arm, linking hers with mine while Alice took my other arm.

I loved my friends.

They knew I needed to get my mind off of him. They had read his letter after all.

It was for the best really. I was glad he had laid out his terms early. No sense getting fanciful ideas in my head.

So when the lights went down and the newsreel started, I tried to avoid thinking of where Corporal Masen was.

What he was doing.

I watched as war planes bombed parts of Italy.

He had said he didn't know much Italian. He wouldn't be in Italy then, right?

They showed the bombed and battered parts of England, and the soldiers there as they shipped out for their next mission.

A brief glimpse of some weary soldiers had my heart aching. I had to wonder if they had girls at home that had gone on with their lives.

Going out wasn't helping.

"Have some of my Hershey bar," Alice whispered, trying to distract me.

I sucked on the square she had given me, trying to appear unaffected.

The newsreel finished only for the feature to start. Thankfully we had picked the right day to come. Tarzan droned away on the screen and for a short time, I was lost in a jungle with Jane and her jungle man.

But the romance drew me once more.

How lonely Edward must be, to push everyone away.

I ate in silence while Alice and Rose talked about the movie and the idea of going to the fabric store to see what they could buy for new dresses. I begged off as soon as our check was paid, not wanting to spend another minute out.

Rose and Alice had succeeded in getting me out on my only day off. But when I stepped into our common room, my heart skipped when I noticed the small envelope on our box.

Another letter.

He had to written me again.

So soon.

Regardless of what he had said in the last letter, I had hope that by getting another letter so soon, he was still willing to write.

I hugged the letter all the way up the stairs, giddy to relax and read his words.

Alone.

Having Rose and Alice hover would have been too much.

What if he was ending this correspondence with this very letter.

I refused to cry in front of Rose. She would have told me that I had held too much towards this stranger.

This stranger that had most certainly taken a hold on my heart.

He wasn't a stranger to me.

I nearly ripped the envelope in two as I tumbled into my bed, turning on the small desk lamp so that I could read.

And immediately I felt the energy in his letter.

Apologetic, fumbling at times. I was sure I giggled at his frustration at his friend, Jasper and how he had told him to clarify.

I knew then that Alice and Jasper would become fast friends.

But Edward's words.

My heart.

It couldn't take it.

_-But if I were to have a girl to love, and love me back, I would want one like you. Your kindness has made me hope for a reason to come home. I would be the luckiest man alive to find a girl such as you. The man that captures your heart will be a very lucky man indeed. Do not offer it lightly. Make sure the man you give your heart to is worth it.-_

"Oh Edward," I whispered.

He had no idea that my heart was already his.

I felt guilty then, reading his fragile proclamation. He had written this letter a month ago and had not hear my answer, and in truth, I had held off writing every day since his last letter. I had wanted to put a little emotional distance, and now I feared that he would view that as my answer to his latest thoughts.

He had enough to deal with.

I was certain he cared in some way, but was simply afraid to offer any hope.

How many times had I heard that from the boys in the ward?

This was the nature of war.

And if I could be Edward's reason for wanting to come home, I would keep up the cause.

Because my heart was his. I'd deal with the damage to it later when he refused me.

For now, I would be his reason to come home.

~~oo~~

* * *

**AN: Oh, Bella, you fall hard now don't you... the two of you are made for each other. Can you imagine having to wait a month or more for an answer to an awkward letter? I'd burst... **

**I mentioned War Bonds in this chapter- so we'll touch briefly on those. **

**War Bonds of WW2 evolved from the Baby Bonds that were used to safely secure funds for the future of one's children (like savings bonds of today) The Baby Bonds had evolved from the War Bonds of WW1- providing a way for people to do their duty (whether it be for war, defense or their family's future) and save money- it helped to curb inflation as more people found work and increased wages. To help stabilize the economy, these bonds were a means to offer an incentive to save for the future, while safely balancing the economy from ruin. **

**Prior to the bombing of Pearl Harbor in 1941, the defense bonds were called Liberty Bonds. The government had been preparing for joining the war since the Nazi invasions of France, Netherlands, Poland, and Belgium in 1940. A voluntary savings program was implemented, with bonds costing as little as $18.75, that when matured after 10 years, you would receive $25.00.**

**When we joined the war, those bonds became war bonds to help fund the war and to curb economic disaster with excessive spending when resources were limited- or from hoarding earnings by not spending at all. It was everyone's patriotic duty to buy war bonds. Hollywood, cartoons, and companies with financial stake in a stable economy all pressed the idea of putting away at least 10 percent of one's earnings into War Bonds. This provided the government a much needed source of money to fund the war, and it gave those saving a chance at the future. **

**If you couldn't put forth the entire $18.75 at once, you could collect stamps to place in a book that once full could be turned in for a war bond. This was a favorite activity amongst children, who felt that they were doing their part by putting those stamps in their parents books- all for the good of the country. (Some of you have shared your stories of collecting the stamps in the booklets for this, TY!)**

**Many women that went to work to fill the void as the men went off to war invested heavily on war bonds. 10 percent was the minimum expected to offer, but many of these women, making more money than they had ever known- and often cutting their budgets by living in boarding houses or renting out rooms to their own houses, put more than that away- for their country, for their men who fought and for their future. When the war was over, many had enough saved that they could put a sizable downpayment on property (if not buy outright) or start their own businesses. **

**Everyone did their part. Over the course of the war, 85 million Americans bought war bonds- totally over $185 Billion... **

**More soon my dears! Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews and stories that you have been sharing. It is such a testament to how much history we all have, just waiting to be told. **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	13. Chapter 13

**Bella's return letter after his last... oh these two really do need this war to be over... a while to go yet, I'm afraid. Some of you have asked about her sending a photo... I will address it, its all part of the plan. And part of the history lesson below (sorry its so long! eek)...**

* * *

**May 10th**

Dear Edward,

I feel terrible for not writing sooner, I took on an extra few shifts as summer has drawn near and work on getting the soldiers in my ward out in the sun for the warm air. At least those that can get outside. There are a few that cannot, and I spend more time with them so that they feel looked after.

But I have neglected you and I am so sorry for that. I feel even more guilty now that I have just received your April 6th letter. Please understand that it was not a malicious intent in regards to your letters. I promise to write more, knowing what it means to you. I promise.

Why must there be so much time in between writing and receiving letters! I can't stand the thought that you have spent over a month worrying over what you wrote. And it is frustrating to know that we seem to be playing catch up with one another as a letter passes the other on a ship or plane or however they get to you and to me.

I think I'll go and buy some of the V-mail stationery to write, if it will speed up the time it takes to get to you. Even if it seems a little more impersonal what with it being a copy when you get it, it seems like speed of delivery is our enemy sometimes.

I know I need to address your statements in your last two letters. Forgive me if my thoughts seem terse. I will be honest with you, as I think you deserve the same honesty that you have given me. Your letter April 2 about not wanting a relationship with a girl because of your expectation of dying in battle upset me. I will tell you why this bothers me, with the risk or you turning away from writing me again.

I do not like the idea that you have signed your life away as if it means nothing. It bothers me that you may have joined to find a means to end things. Those Japanese pilots that bombed Pearl Harbor thought that way, and I think it is not brave but cowardice that makes a man do so. I am not saying that you are a coward in so much that you need a reason to fight and to live through this. I believe every man should have a reason in his heart for this war. So when I read that I have given you a reason, it made my heart soar. Not because I have expectations of a romantic relationship with you, but that you have invested in me the desire to fight and to come home. That makes me so proud. You need a reason and I want you to come home. Life is precious and you should go into battle with the thought of making this world safer. You are a hero in my eyes.

So please do not ever think that your life is less important. It is important to everyone because you will make a difference. You are not on a suicide mission as those cowards were. You will make a difference, with a true and brave heart. And you will come home.

Your avoidance at relationships is understandable, if not melancholy. Love happens whether we wish it or not. I will admit to you that I have feelings for you although I don't know what they are. I don't know you really, but I feel I do, more so than anyone I may meet. I confess to praying at night for your safety, because there is some part of me that cares deeply. I know I should not feel the way I do, but you must understand that you have had an effect on me, maybe more so than I have upon you.

I will not expect anything to come of this nor I do not expect you to have feelings for me. I understand your reservations. I am not one to offer my heart easily, just as you. Love is sacred to me. And the loss of love is not something I want to experience. Perhaps that is why I do not have a man in my life. I do not want to see an end to something I care deeply about.

We are quite the pair, aren't we?

Perhaps we should just stick to the weather and movies as topic of conversation. Maybe that is all we are meant for to stay safe in our hearts.

I care for your safety, and I hope you remain safe. I hope that you can understand that I value you as my friend above all things, and that writing to you as well as receiving your letters have made a change in my life as well. It has more meaning, knowing that there is someone who depends on me.

So I will keep writing. Because I care about you and I wish you to come home safely.

Please write back to let me know you have not been offended by my words. I only mean to offer you the truth, as you have to me. Perhaps it is because we have never met that we can be so candid with one another, but I am an honest person, and would feel guilty if I didn't at least tell you that you matter to me. If you wish to continue this exchange of letters, I will do my best to keep your spirits high so that you can return home.

Always your friend,

Bella

* * *

**AN: I wonder if he'll read the _Your friend_ part with a little sadness. So clearly stated. Oh Edward and Bella... you guys are just silly. Don't be too hard on Bella and her comments here. She is still processing and trying to come to terms with her feelings, with the understanding that Edward is not "interested." The Pearl Harbor comment will be addressed by Edward eventually. (how dare she compare him to the Kamikaze pilots!- there's a reason- faith)**

**Ok, history time. **

**Letters were sent a couple different ways. You could send them regular post, which took much longer for processing through civilian post and then going through military post, inspections etc. And then there was also Victory mail (or V-mail)**

**V-mail was sent using microphotography. A letter was written on special stationery that was a piece of paper and the envelope all in one. This helped reduce the cargo to and from the war zone and made it easier and faster to send letters to and from the war. In 1944, 1,482,000,000 pieces of mail were processed by the military mail system (2,533,938,330 pieces in 1945). That's a lot of paper and cargo! Civilians could buy the stationery at stores or they could get 2 sheets per day at the local post office. There wasn't a lot of room to write, so you had to keep brief, or write many letters. the sender would write inside the predescribed lines, either by typewriter or pen (and if it was illegible, your letters were slowed down because they weren't microfiched). **

**Letters went to domestic sorting areas (NY being one main one- huh- funny Bella is in NY!) such as NY, Chicago, San Fran. They were then sorted according to Navy or Army addresses. from there the War and Navy Departments took them and copied them to microfilm- a letter sized letter, on special V-mail paper was scanned and reduced to one frame of a 16mm film. When it reached the processing houses in Europe or the Pacific (or back home if mailed by a soldier) it was then enlarged and copied to a piece of paper smaller than the original. So what Edward would get from Bella if she used V-mail would be a letter the size of something like 4x6 copy. If you wrote outside the lines of the original document, it would be cut off (think of modern copy machines and when you don't line up your document just right)**

**Pictures and inserts were prohibited in V-mail because it clogged the system. Oftentimes pictures would be discarded on the floor of the processing center before scanning (can you imagine all the pictures of women on the ground!?) The only exception to this was established in 1943 when the War Department allowed for pics of newborns born after soldiers left to fight. Pictures would be scanned into the upper corner of the document (quick Bella- grab a kid and get a picture taken so you can send a picture!) **

**Other items that slowed down V-mail? Lipstick would clog the machines (all those kisses on letters...) and if you sprayed your letter with perfume, it just didn't translate onto the microfilm...lol**

**So how did people send things to soldiers? We see that soldiers got pictures of their girls back home. And vice versa... Old slow mail was the way to go (the original snail mail, lol). No guarantees how fast it would get there, as processing was much slower for physical paper letters, and if the man was out in the field, even slower. If he was on base, he had a chance of getting it faster (thus why you might see Edward mention how grateful he was to be on base to receive her letters). **

**Obviously, Edward and Bella's letters are pretty lengthy to this date. V-mail became popular in 1942, with Airmail Vmail services starting in May of 1944 (huh... right around the time of of this post...hmmm) Airmail vmail cost more, but if you could get a letter over there in days instead of weeks/months? totally worth the extra 8 cents... Soldiers could send standard V-mail for free- one of the perks to fighting for your country...**

**So you might see Edward and Bella's letters get a little shorter- so they can take advantage of V-mail... I only just learned the specifics of V-mail and its limitations- thank you Smithsonian National Postal Museum website! So we'll take advantage of that a little more! **

**Now for that photo of Bella... well, she might be a little shy at offering it, even by sending it slow paper mail. She views herself as ordinary after all. And with the restrictions... perhaps she doesn't want to look presumptuous. If only Edward would ask for one... *smirk***

**More soon! **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello again! Sorry for the delay- you ever have one of those days when you just want to pull your brain out of your head and let yourself be a vegetable for awhile? That was me yesterday. But today you get a slightly longer chapter because of it! YAY!**

**So here we go ( I know you all want to see Edward's response to her last letter- but it'll be a while... timeline and mailing delay and all)**

* * *

**May 25th**

The name on the folder for the newest patient in the ward made my heart ache.

He wasn't our first John Doe.

Perhaps that's what made it even more depressing. In the last two months, I had met half a dozen John Does. How was it possible to have so many men come back from the front, with no identity?

Men in comas, men with amnesia, even one man who had faked it so he wouldn't have to go home to face his father and the fact that he was coming home when his brother had not.

Every John Doe had a story.

We just didn't know them.

But now there was another one in my ward. One I might get to talk, or perhaps he had seen too much to want to speak anymore. They came back broken, and it was our job to help them to heal. Some of these boys never would.

Like Private Newton. He had never regained consciousness. I had read to him every day, until one day I came in and his bed was empty. He had just given up breathing. His bed had a new man in it, one awake and maybe wishing he wasn't. Triple amputee.

Everyone had lost something.

Paul lost the rest of his leg due to infection. Embry his arm to the shoulder. Both were moved from my ward before the surgery and didn't come back. Whether it was because they didn't make it or they were simply in another ward, I never found out.

Today I was going to have to say goodbye to Sam.

Many left. Few stayed. The men rotated through and I lost a little of myself each time I lost one. The ones that could tell me goodbye were the ones that made me feel like I was doing something for them.

The ones that couldn't…

"Bella?"

I looked up from the paperwork on Esme's small desk to find her standing there, looking a little tired but a smile nonetheless.

"I have another assignment for you," she said and motioned me out of the office.

I closed the folder on John Doe and followed her to another ward.

"Am I not going to read to the men anymore?" I asked as we neared the doors, panic clear in my voice.

I wasn't sure I could handle losing that. Too many losses.

She shook her head.

"I'm pulling you from the clerical work, Bella," she explained. "I would never leave those boys without you. You've done so much for them. But I need someone to help with some of the daily routines. The men like you. You're gentle and kind. They respond to that."

I looked at her dubiously when she handed me a bowl and a satchel.

"Nothing to do with their wounds," she said as if sensing my dear. "Daily routines. Shaving. Help with feeding. Basic things our nurses don't have time to do anymore."

She stepped into the ward, turning her head back to see if I was following.

I took a breath and followed.

This was my job. This was my duty.

And I'd do it, if it meant these men would have a little peace for a while.

And as I spoke to each new face, and saw their smiles at my presence, I thought of Corporal Masen.

I hoped he took my letter well.

Waiting was the worst part.

~~oo~~

"It won't be the same without you here," I said as Sam walked slowly towards the doors.

He flashed me a smile and leaned into his cane a little heavier.

"You have a new batch of boys to whip into shape. I was there too long," he said.

"Yeah, but who will keep them in line when they ask me to marry them?" I teased.

I heard it every day.

And I dismissed them just as easily.

My heart was taken already.

And Sam knew it. He had seen my moods change every time I received a letter.

"You keep doing what you do. Your boy will be home soon," he said and for a minute his tone grew more serious. "Have faith that it will happen, that he'll come home."

I nodded and remained quiet.

Sam didn't know everything. But he knew I wouldn't leave a man like his girl had done to him.

"Where are you going, anyway?" I asked.

He turned and raised his bad arm, the stub of his hand covered by the uniform jacket that was tucked neatly into itself.

"Probably back home. No use for me here. I have a stipend coming to me. Maybe I'll go back to school. Become a teacher. Your reading made me think I'd like to learn more," he said and smiled again. "You inspire in more ways than one."

I blushed and looked down at the ground, embarrassed.

"Well, don't be a stranger. You can always write."

He nodded and leaned in to offer me an awkward embrace.

"Take care, little lady," he whispered and pulled away, out through the door and out of my life.

I stood looking at the door for a few minutes before making my way back up the stairs to my ward. There were a number of new men there.

I'd write about it tonight when I returned home.

Another letter to Edward.

Perhaps tonight I'd find a letter in my box.

But just like every other night when I came home, my box was empty.

The wait was maddening.

* * *

**AN: Many of the troops that came back home- released from duty because of their injuries, had usually suffered horrific injuries- blindness, amputation, burns. spinal cord injuries and the effects of malaria and malnutrition. Most of what Bella sees are the men that have lost limbs and and suffer from blows to the head that have resulted in amnesia or catatonic stress. It was difficult for our country to welcome these men back, not because they weren't heroes. They were. But they came back with visible scars that reminded us of the atrocities of war, and made it hard for these men to find work that they could manage.**

**Not only that, but high unemployment faced them when all the men returned, as well as a different kind of household waited for them at home, with women having discovered a new kind of independence. Divorce rates after the war were the highest they had ever been and were not seen as so high until the 1960's. It was a different world they came back to. A lot to take in, on top of trying to reconcile the terror of memories from the war itself.**

**We are still learning from this. PTSD wasn't even on their radar, but it was still just as prevalent back then. Innovations in artificial limbs boomed after the 2nd World War, and rehabilitation as well. Sam and Bella's boys are just a small window into that world.**

**Some pimping: If you like this story and want to read more war era (not just WW2) stories- here's some stories fellow readers have recc'd. I believe in spreading the love!**

**ENJOY! just remove the spaces around the dots!**

**The Wallflower and the Flyboy by A Cullen Wannabe www . fanfiction s/5104763/1/The_Wallflower_and_The_Flyboy**

**Warbride by CarribeanLady www . fanfiction s/4759590/1/Warbride**

**A Soldier's Coming Home by morsus mihi www . fanfiction s/5443085/1/**

**Finding Home by jennde www . fanfiction s/5262540/1/Finding-Home**

**The Harvest of Avarice by Emmamamma88 www . fanfiction s/7804588/1/The-Harvest-of-Avarice**

**More soon!  
MWAH!**


	15. Chapter 15

Hello again all!

So many of you really took to Sam! Aww. it was sad to see him go, but as in the nature of her work- at least he was able to go out walking. It'll get harder for her to let go of her boys as the war continues...

And dogtags... heheeheh. a number of you asked how there could be so many John Does. I'll answer that at the bottom I think- as it is important.

This is longer than usual, cuz it would be cruel to split it.

Reminder about looking at the dates- dates= important!

* * *

**June 4****th**

"You have letters!"

I shut the door to our room and rushed for Alice who sat on her bed, a small pile of envelopes beside her.

"Letters?" I asked, fearful of being too excited. "As in more than one?"

She grinned as I snatched the envelopes from her hand and collapsed into my bed, all the fatigue of the double shift at the hospital forgotten with the thin envelopes.

I wanted to savor them. It had been almost a month since the last letter.

And now I had two.

Would he address what I had said?

Was it too early for him to receive that letter?

Why was I suddenly nervous to know?

"Will you just read them?" Alice huffed. I could tell she was dying to know what Edward had said.

"Did you get one too?" I asked and nodded towards the small pile of letters left on her bed.

She nodded, her face bursting with excitement.

"So did Rose," she said. "Read! I am dying to know what he has to say!"

"You have your own letter!" I teased and held mine a little tighter.

"Yes, but Jasper said the Edward is terrible at this," she retorted, laughing.

"Terrible at what?"

She rolled her eyes and flopped into the bed, her head propped up with her hands.

"Writing to a girl!"

I sighed and tried to remain noncommittal. But my body rebelled.

"I knew you liked him!" she teased and my blush grew.

"I'm going to go read this in the bathroom," I grumbled and moved to get up.

Alice stopped me with a gesture of her hand.

"Stay, I have to go out and buy some more stationery," she said. "You're safe until I get back and then I want details."

She left me alone with my letters, and I opened the oldest one carefully, willing myself to take my time.

I needed to savor every word.

~~oo~~

**_May 19th_**

_ Dear Bella,_

_You have no idea how wonderful your letters made us feel today. I am so glad we have been on base, or we would have missed them entirely until I don't know how long! They came to us quickly, you must have put them in post before the ship set sail to here. It was a most welcome treat to hear from you so soon._

_Jasper can't stop smiling and Emmett is wondering if Rosalie is really a blonde. I'm embarrassed to think that maybe your friends don't know what they have got themselves into. Emmett won't stop talking about the idea of writing to someone that resembles Veronica Lake. Does she really? I hope she is as wilful as she seems in her letter, that will keep Emmett in check._

_Yes, I may have looked over the letters before I gave them to my friends. I hope you forgive me for that. Yours are far more interesting to me, and I cherish every word you offer me._

_I do not know if you have received some of my last letters. I must apologize for my words again. It was so nice to see this letter from you, but you have not addressed any of the comments I made in the last one so I fear that perhaps this might be the last one I receive._

_I will pretend it is not and hope that tomorrow I will have my name called again. It is what I hope for every day._

_You asked about the blacking out of my sentences. I apologize for that. I knew better and I suppose I let myself lapse in judgment, in hopes that you'd learn more of me. I don't have that luxury. So I suppose you will only ever know that I am simply a soldier, over here somewhere, doing something that you may soon see on your newsreels. Maybe you will see me in them with a medal, or watching over a troop of captured enemies. But those are things I do not think you will be interested in discussing._

_I hope to hear from you again soon. I am afraid you have created an addict in me with your letters. Your letters are like a drug, to which I happily relinquish myself._

_Thank you for writing. I hope to hear from you again, Bella. Your letters always brighten my day._

_Yours,_

_Edward_

**_May 20_****_th_**

_Another restless day. We're sleeping days now, and my body has yet to adjust. So I thought I would write. I don't know when I'll have the time again. We've been so busy as of late._

_I'll be gone for a while soon. Don't worry yourself too much if you don't hear from me for some time. Where I will be going, I doubt I will be able to send letters. So I might write you a long letter with many days worth if that's all right. I will however miss the letters you've sent so regularly. I have a nice collection I keep tucked in my breast pocket. Jasper jokes that if you write with the frequency you have, my packet of letters will make a nice bit of insulation around my heart. I wouldn't dare ask you to keep writing as much as you have, but I find his idea pleasant._

_Your words do protect me and insulate me from the harsh reality of this war. So I hope when I am able, I'll have many letters from you. Telling me about the spring flowers that must be blooming, or the way the sky is so much bluer in summer. Write to me about the simple things, and maybe what brings you joy._

_Those are my favorite._

_I hope that my previous comments have not made you think twice about writing to me. I was a fool to discuss my feelings. I blame Jasper. I blame the war. I blame myself. You have made me rethink so many things in the last few months. I wonder if I have let myself be too closed off all this time. I wonder if I have botched up the one good thing I have going for me, which is your companionship. Please don't give up on me. That is all I ask. Forgive me for my narrow-minded ideas and have faith that you have made me see things differently._

_I will write when I can. But do not worry over me. I will look forward to the letters I hope to receive when I get back to civilization._

_Yours,_

_Edward_

* * *

**AN: aww, I know you wanted to know his reaction to her letter... damn that mail service! Let's hope he gets her letter very soon...**

**So John Doe soldiers... not super common. But there were times when men would be taken in, injured, dying, their clothes and belongings stripped off of them to clean them up and aid them- by foreign medics (French, Canadian, German) and sometimes civilians would help injured soldiers they found in their fields (there are many stories of the French helping American troops after D-Day- providing shelter, aid, whatever they could). Sometimes the dogtags just found their way off of the men ( I won't go into the gory details...)**

**Details of regiments and divisions of men was also scattered, especially after D-Day when such a huge mass of soldiers amassed with so much force and strength. Men who had been a part of one company discovered they were all that was left and they were absorbed into the next passing platoon or regiment. A lot of swapping of troops happened to stabilize forces, and while the men's names were checked and sorted, it took time to get it to HQ. The more I read about how men were pulled from one place to another, just to fill the gaps in the lines, its a miracle there weren't more mistaken for lost, dead or AWOL. **

**Being listed as MIA or KIA was a very common mistake. And imagine with as long as it takes for Bella to get a letter, how long it would take to correct a misinformed and grieving widow or mother that her son is in fact alive, just with B Company now... add to that these boys who are unconscious and unnamed, or catatonic or an amnesiac... it happens today too. But back then- before computers... everything was by paper...and if courier was killed relaying names- those were lost. It would kill me being at home here and being told my husband had been killed, only to find out months later that he was only repurposed.**

**More soon. So appreciative of the wonderful reviews and pimps and kind words! And the love for my crazy history lessons. Who says you can't learn from fan fic?! silly people...**

**MWAH!**

**steph **


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello again! oh, so many of you wanted to know what the dear boy would think! we're just gonna have to wait like Bella. That darn mail system!**

**So this one might be a little long... maybe...**

* * *

I should have been tired. Exhausted from all the long days. Tending to the men was a lot of work, but with Edward's two letters, and the things he had said in them... I was full of energy. Rose and Alice finished their letters early, opting for short and sweet. I didn't have the heart to tell them the lipstick they put on the paper would never read when it got processed. They were so excited by their own letters.

I knew how they felt. So I wouldn't tease them. I was beyond the moon at knowing that I had made a difference in Edward's life.

I noticed he even signed his letters differently. I wouldn't think too hard on it, but I couldn't help but grin at it every time I re-read his letters. So distant before, and now...

There was hope.

I gave him hope just as much as he did me.

How could I not write immediately?

And with the new V-mail stationery that Alice bought, I found it was so much harder to write what I wanted in the small space provided. But I knew Edward would enjoy the multiple letters. I knew how that felt now, after his two. I hoped the V-mail was true to its word and he received these letters quickly, before he went out on his mission.

I hoped.

~~oo~~

_**June 4****th**_

_Dear Edward,_

_I was so happy to get your letters dated May 19th and 20th. I understand your comment on these letters being addictive. I rush to the mailbox in our common room hoping to find a little brown envelope with your name on it. When it is empty, I rush to my room, hoping my roommates have collected the mail and I will find a letter waiting on my pillow. Today was such a day, with Alice waiting for me with two of your letters! Two!_

_I hope you receive this soon. Rose and Alice received their first letters from Jasper and Emmett and already I feel like I know them. I feel better now, knowing you have such good friends. We stay up late now talking about you all. We were all surprised by how quickly your letters came to us! It was the fastest yet in only two weeks! How I wish it were always that fast._

_You asked about your letters, feeling uncomfortable about what you had written. I hope you receive my responses to those letters before this one. The things you wrote were your truth as you saw them, and I respect that. You can't get rid of me that easily._

_I'm using this V-mail stationery, so my letters will be shorter, but it means you get so many more._

_So since I am out of room, I will say until the next one and pull out the next sheet of paper._

_I hope it brings a smile to your face when you hear your name over these._

_That is my favorite part of writing, knowing it makes you smile._

_Until the next letter._

_Your friend,_

_Bella_

_**~~oo~~**_

_**June 4th**_

_Dear Edward,_

_I suppose I should start numbering these letters when they are a continuation? I don't know. I don't really wish to shorten my words to you. And I hope you don't mind my ramblings sometimes._

_You asked about Rose and Alice and what they look like._

_Yes, Rose is stunningly beautiful. Alice is quite pretty as well, if not a little short. Don't ever tell her I said that, though. Both are very pretty and always find themselves the belle of the balls they attend. I on the other hand have never been a belle to any ball. Regardless of my name._

_You said in one letter that it meant beautiful. What's the Italian word for ordinary? That suits me far better. Brown hair, brown eyes. And skin that some say is pretty but I think it is far too pale, even for all the fashionable excuses Rose comes up with to envy it. I'm just plain, ordinary Bella._

_I'm afraid you received the short straw for beautiful pen pals._

_Is it too bold for me to ask what you look like? I don't know why I have never asked. Alice pesters me about it every time I write. But I wasn't sure you'd find it appropriate. Now since Alice and Rose have both started writing, I suppose I should ask._

_Are you as tall as Jasper says you are?_

_I will look forward to your letters, please write when you have the time._

_Your friend,_

_Bella_

**_~~oo~~_**

**_June 4th_**

_Dear Edward,_

_My last letter for the night. It's late and I suppose you are still working, doing whatever you do. You asked me not to worry about you when you go out on assignment. I'm sorry, but I will. It's in my nature. Just understand that I will think of you and pray for you every chance I get. It is maddening sometimes not knowing what it is you do, but for your safety and for my sanity, I suppose it is also better that way._

_The newsreels show us some. I do wonder if I will ever see you on one. Hard to know since I don't know what you look like. I know Alice and Rose asked for pictures. Is it too presumptuous of me to perhaps ask for one as well? Maybe one of the three of you. If it is even possible. I don't know that you would have the time to take photographs. But a face to the name is always nice. Then I will be able to spot you should you star in the next newsreel that we see._

_Would you like a picture of me? I know it's very brazen to offer. But maybe if it means I would receive one in return? I will have to send it regular mail, so it might be a while. But if you say yes, I will send one. If only to offer you a smiling face to go with your pocket of letters that keep you safe._

_I'll sign off with that. I hope you are safe. I will be thinking of you and praying for your safety._

_And looking forward to your next letter, whenever you can._

_Your friend,_

_Bella_

~~oo~~

I stretched and closed up the envelopes, hesitating for a moment over the last one. Would he enjoy a picture of me? His words in his letter seemed to suggest that he felt at least a little bit more than simple correspondence friends between us. I tiptoed to my bed, pulling out the album I had tucked underneath. Sliding back into my seat, I opened it up to the last few pages. I wanted to send him a picture of me that portrayed who I was now, the independent woman living away from home. I didn't have many pictures of myself.

I paused at one of Rose, Alice and me. It was when we had first moved in together. It was all right. I looked a little too shy, having just arrived on the train and having only just met Rose and Alice. I turned the page and smiled at the memories there. Rose's first job had been working at the aviation factory. She had been a little forceful with her boss and nailed his office door shut with him in it. But not before we had one of the boys there take pictures of us by one of the planes they had worked on.

I contemplated sending that one. I was smiling and demure. It wouldn't look like I was trying to send him a pinup picture like so many other girls did. But what if he wasn't a pilot? would he be offended?

Next to those pictures were some from our day at the beach just a few weeks ago. I slipped one from the tabs and looked at it carefully.

It was nice. I was smiling. And then I remembered why I had been smiling.

I had been thinking of my soldier.

I grinned at the exuberant feeling rushing through me in reckless abandon and grabbed a plain piece of paper and envelope. This would take forever to get to him, but at least it would be on its way. And once done, it was done.

No turning back.

~~oo~~

**_June 5th_**

_Dear Edward, _

_It is now officially June 5th, and I have decided to send this to you, even if you request that I do not. _

_I won't prattle on about how I think you need this picture, but I wanted to let you know I was thinking of you when Alice took it. _

_So you are in my thoughts and I hope that you like it. Now I know you have a part of me to keep you safe. _

_Your friend, _

_Bella_

~~oo~~

I sealed the envelope before I changed my mind and slid into bed, staring at the ceiling imagining his face when he opened up the letter.

It was difficult to do, not knowing what he looked like, but I could imagine.

His words were beautiful and kind, so he had kind eyes. Perhaps blue. Maybe green.

And a smile that would make my stomach knot.

But his eyes. Eyes were the window to a person's soul.

I imagined they were kind.

I fell asleep to that, his face a mystery. But his joyful eyes remained.

* * *

**AN: Awwwww. She got a little courageous and sent him a picture... Now we'll just have to see if he'll get it.**

**sooo. if you'd like to see the pic Bella sent- here is the link**

**(http) : / / goo . gl/lk0mz**

**just take out the () around the beginning, take out all the spaces... give up your first born so ffn will allow us to link sites in our notes... and there's the pic! You can also find it on the FB group page**

**www . facebook groups/463648170336030/**

**History for today:**

**Did you know that there was a secret group in the UK called the London Controlling Section that devised the improvised mobilization of a fake invasion force planned to land near Pas de Calais, called Operation Bodyguard. Operation Fortitude was the fake name given to the imaginary invasion plans. The LCS laid false trails in German intel to make Hitler's generals to believe that Allied forces would invade in the late spring/early summer hundreds of miles east of the real invasion spot, Normandy.**

**There plans were so intricate, a german reconnaissance plane shot at a radio tower that posed as central communications for the fake invasion. Fake troop divisions were relayed back and forth by radio, knowing that the Germans were listening in. Movement details, training exercises made it appear there were more men preparing than there actually were. While the real troops planned and loaded up boats on the south coast of England, a small contingent of fighter pilots and bombers laid siege on the eastern Atlantic shelf near Calais. Inflatable trucks and boats were seen on the eastern coast of England for German reconnaissance to report back. The LTC even utilized a number of double agents to lay the foundation that an invasion was eminent, just in the wrong place.**

**This diversionary tactic helped steer German troops away from the real site, allowing a fighting chance for our boys that landed that fateful morning of June 6th, 1944. A number of factors contributed (and hindered) the success of the invasion of Normandy. Bad weather on June 4th stalled the invasion, and the boldness of German generals was such that they doubted any invasion would risk travelling across such turbulent seas. Eisenhower made the decision on the morning of June 5th to invade, knowing that any further delay would cost them much. The weather turned for the better eventually (although cloud cover didn't help paratroopers in the midnight drops the eve of June 6th...**

**but more on that next time...**

**More soon!**

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello again! Sorry so late- busy couple of days and hubby birthday! Hope you enjoy this little bit! **

**MWAH!**

* * *

All day long, I stressed over what I had done. Something I would never do before. This morning it had taken me half an hour to shove the letters in the post. And then afterward I worried I had gone too far.

I needed reassurance.

It was like Edward knew that I would need more letters to cure my insecurity.

How did he know?

Because when I came home from the hospital, there on my pillow sat another letter.

Regardless of the date on it, I was thrilled. It was an earlier letter. Probably something simple and meaningless to him, but to me it made me happy to know he was writing more and more.

For a moment I could imagine many more letters coming.

For a moment I could forget that I had been ridiculous enough to mail a picture.

For a moment I could think the perhaps he felt something.

For a moment I could be happy and not doubt myself.

Edward's letters made it so.

~~oo~~

**_May 5th_**

_Dear Bella, _

_I couldn't sleep, so I thought I would write to you again. Perhaps it will bring a smile to your lips as it does for me when I receive your letters. I hope you know how much your words mean to me, especially when I am alone in the night with my letters and the moon and the quiet of our tent and Emmett's snoring. You bring a bit of home to me in this foreign land. _

_You said you have moved onto poetry with the soldiers in your ward. Again I am jealous. I have no right to be, except that they get to see you and hear your voice. And maybe have the chance to see your smile when you make them feel good. But then again I receive your words and keep them close. Perhaps I am the lucky one. I have a piece of you that I can carry with me everywhere I go. _

_Have you had a chance to go out with Rose and Alice to the USO dances that they write about? You don't talk about it much so I don't know. Is the music good? You mentioned Glenn Miller. He came to our base on the New Year. He is one of my favorites as well and could enjoy a dance or two with a lovely lady while listening to his band. _

_Save a dance for me. I would gladly dance with you as often as you liked. _

_I hope things are well where you are. _

_I will write again soon as time permits. We've been busy lately. So much to do, and yet I feel listless most nights. Nervous jitters perhaps. There's a lot riding on us, I can feel it. _

_Perhaps I will dream of summer nights in New York. _

_Tell me about that sometime?_

_Yours, _

_Edward_

~~oo~~

**June 5th**

Dear Edward,

I just received your early May letter. Funny how I received it after your later letters. This will only prove how hard it is to answer questions without them being misconstrued.

The weather here has turned quite warm and I've been able to put away the sweaters finally. Esme brings in flowers to the wards, and the hospital grounds always have something blooming, but it's only been recently with the reading group in the gardens that I've been able to enjoy them. There is an ancient dogwood tree that is still in bloom. It should have stopped a few weeks ago, but it's a nice bit of shade for all of us.

Alice and Rose tricked me to go to one of those USO dances you asked about. I think the sailor that Alice forced to dance for me received a Purple Heart for injuries incurred by my feet on the dance floor. I'm a danger to my dance partners. You may wish to rethink your request for a dance with me.

I'm flattered that you keep my letters with you. Even more flattered that you keep them close to your heart. I keep yours close as well, and not just to keep Alice from eavesdropping. You were right about them writing. It has cut down on how much she reads of your letters. You had a brilliant idea.

I promise to write again. Even if it's the mundane things I do in the course of the day.

I hope that you are being safe. I admit that it is all I have thought of since reading that you were going out again. I fear I won't hear from you in some time, and that can only be tempered with the hope that you remain strong and brave. I know you are these things, so I will close with the hope to hear from you again soon.

And I hope you get my letters I recently sent before you go on your mission. I hope they a smile to your face.

.

.

.

.

.

~~oo~~

I paused over the signature, contemplating.

His signatures always made me feel lightheaded.

Did I dare?

What would be so bad about it? I had already sent a picture.

It wasn't as brash as that, right?

Pen poised over the bottom of the V-mail stationery, I let out my breath and scribbled my closing quickly.

.

.

_Yours, _

_Bella_

* * *

**AN: AWWW. she finally wrote it out... you know she'll question it all while she waits for his next letter. **

**So many of you are dying to hear his response to her letters and the picture... we'll have to wait a little while... But I have planned now a little POV switch up for you... in a few days...**

**History time. **

**President Franklin Roosevelt often gave radio speeches that helped to unite the nation- aired at 10pm eastern, it was one way the entire nation could pause and listen to their leader discuss the concerns of the country. They were known as the Fireside Chats, meant to be listened to in the comfort of citizens homes available for all. **

**On June 5th, he gave one of his last fireside chats- entitled the "On the Fall of Rome"(FSChat # 29)- he detailed the success of Allied troops taking over Rome- reminding Americans that it would still be a long road to haul- that the Germans would be a hard force to overcome. A longer invigorating speech, it was meant to stir the excitement of the nation towards the hope for resolution to the war- that all the sacrifices were meaningful.**

**What Americans didn't know was that at the very moment FDR was speaking to his nation, Allied forces were already making their way across the channel to Normandy- over 20,000 paratroopers had already or were in process of jumping behind enemy lines to secure roads for the invasion. FDR knew, he was being informed of every movement of our boys. **

**The next day, FDR spoke to the nation again, this time in prayer for those fighting on the beaches and deep in French countryside. he mentions that the great invasion has come to pass, and is a success- THUS FAR- followed by a prayer to troops. **

**FDR was instrumental in creating a sense of intimacy between a President and his people. Radio was his ally, and made the patriotism that much more united because of his "chats". They were written simply, so that every man, of every educational background could be motivated. **

**Every President since FDR has delivered a weekly radio address (Obama does both an audio and video address you can find on You Tube ) representatives for the opposing political party also do a weekly address- a rebuttal if you will. **

**ooh, that felt a little political, what with elections coming up and all! LOL**

**I hate putting links up- if you go to You Tube and type in FDR D-day Speech June 6th, 1944- you can listen to it. **

**More soon! Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews and posts and discussions and banners and wow! just everything! You all are amazing! I am most blessed to have such great readers! **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hello my dears! For many- you have guessed the date... Let's see how Bella deals with this day...**

* * *

**June 6th**

I woke up late, struggling to fall asleep and tossing and turning what was left of the night. Alice and Rose had the early shift and were already gone by the time I woke up. I rushed through my morning routine, my mind a little dazed from unsettling dreams all night.

I skipped grabbing breakfast at the house, partly because there were too many of the gossip girls in the living room, huddled around the radio.

I didn't have time to suffer their newest theories or concerns about whatever had them entranced to the radio.

I needed to get my head on straight to get through my day with the boys while trying desperately not fret over the letter I held in my hand.

I wouldn't worry over my signature.

I'd just send it.

I paused at the postal box on the street and looked over my letter once more.

He'd tell me if I was too forward, right?

Maybe he'd appreciate it.

I shoved the letter into the box and rushed away, the decision made.

I would deal with it whenever he mailed back. If he mailed back.

I walked briskly through the light foot traffic to the hospital, surprised when I noticed how quiet it seemed when I stepped inside. No one at the front reception desk, and no one in the lobby, I made my way upstairs to Esme's small office to find it vacant as well.

As I made my way up the stairs to my ward, I could hear the radio echoing off the concrete walls.

Was it radio hour already and I had overslept more than I had realized?

I slowed my steps when I came into the ward to find the men huddled around our radio. Those that couldn't move themselves had been rolled as close as they could. Beds moved to accommodate like a circling of the wagons, all around the radio that blaring out in a man's voice.

No one had even turned when I had opened the door.

Doctors stood on the periphery, I noticed Rose and Alice sitting on the floor near the radio.

And then the words on the radio became clear to me.

_"The men of General Dwight Eisenhower are leaving their landing barges, fighting their way up the beaches into the fortress of Nazi Europe. They are moving in from the sea, to attack the enemy under a mammoth cloud of fighter planes, under a ceiling of screaming shells from Allied warships. The first news flashes do not say, but a large proportion of this assault is believed to be in the hands of American Men. They are making this attack side by side with the British Tommies who were bombed and blasted out of Europe at Dunkirk. Now at this hour, they are bombing and blasting their way back again…"_

My mind reeled.

I couldn't breathe.

This was what Edward had said in his letter.

Going away for a while. Not to worry.

_"D-day is here…"_

Snippets of words from the radio seeped in.

_"Airfields have been stripped…"_

_"Die or retreat for that is what they must do…"_

I stood in the middle of the room, ignored by everyone, listening as they did. Listening over and over of the news flashes coming in.

Paratroopers, the largest drop in history successful and the invasion had begun.

Thousands landing on the beaches of the coast of France.

Many dead. The fighting fierce but Allied forces were breaking through.

The Invasion that everyone had been expecting had begun.

My mind was numb.

My chest hurt.

Where was Edward in this?

Was he even still alive?

Many dead.

_Oh, Lord. Please watch over him._

"Bella?"

I blinked and found Esme standing in front of me, her eyes wet and looking down at me with concern.

"Are you all right?" she asked and moved me over towards a vacant bed.

I couldn't verbalize my answer.

Was I all right?

"Maybe you should go home," she suggested softly. "Today will be rough as it is."

I shook my head and took a struggling breath.

I would only worry more alone at home.

I needed a distraction.

"I need to be here," I finally managed.

She seemed to sense my desperation and simply nodded, wiping away something on my face. I hadn't realized I was crying.

"I know what it's like," she said and sat down with me. "When my husband was in Germany in the Great war, I feared he was gone for many months. This will eat at you if you let it. Best thing for you is to work. And avoid thinking about it."

I thought about her husband, Dr. Cullen and the few times I had seen him in the hospital. And older man but still striking in appearance. Friendly and warm hearted. And the limp as he walked from soldier to soldier, cane in hand but here many hours regardless helping the men out.

The Great War had been horrific.

And he had survived.

It gave me hope.

"I should see to the men," I said and slowly stood, my head a little cloudy still but clearing rapidly.

"I am happy to talk if you need to," Esme replied and stood with me, brushing at her skirt to straighten it.

I nodded and walked away, off to the other ward I tended to.

Hopefully there wouldn't be a radio there.

I wasn't sure I could manage the day hearing every detail of what Edward might be going through.

But as soon as I had taken care of the other men, I found myself back in my ward. The men had dispersed some, but the radio still played.

No one could turn it off for fear of missing a part of history.

These boys. These men. They might have been a part of this.

Were they the lucky ones.

"Should have been me there," one down the line muttered.

Tyler. He was an older man, a lifer in the Marines.

Losing his arm in a mortar blast in Italy. He would be discharged from the only life he knew. Was he lucky?

"I would have died there serving."

Another man. I couldn't remember his name, he was new.

"I wouldn't want to be one of those paratroopers. No amount of extra pay would make me jump from a plane into the firing line like that. They're insane."

"Arrogant bastards is what they are," Eric said near me and then blushed when he caught me listening.

"They always thought they were better than us," Benjamin sneered. "Special training and all, but really they all just have death wishes. Everyone knows those paratroopers will drop right in on the enemy. Probably be cut to pieces before they reach the ground. Waste of men if you ask me."

"Those guys on the beach will see the real action," another man said down the line. "They'll be remembered while we sit here, doing nothing."

"Should have been there," Tyler muttered again.

I could feel the longing in their words, yet couldn't understand it. Edward didn't want to be there, but he was just doing his duty. I understood men who wanted to be soldiers, but the thought of being in the thick of this invasion.

The reports later in the day suggested almost one hundred fifty thousand troops having landed on the beaches.

So many men.

How many dead.

"Do you think they're all right?" Alice asked me near supper time. None of us wanted to leave the hospital, but Rose had insisted we take a break. The diner was playing the radio as well.

There was no missing anything.

The world was listening.

"We can only pray," I replied, my own thoughts thousands of miles away.

"I should have never written that letter," Rose said, her face a little ashen in the light of the diner.

She never looked grim over news, but today she had never strayed far from the radio, and her reactions had been one more akin to mine.

Worry.

"What do you mean?" Alice asked.

Rose looked at me for a long moment and shook her head finally.

"I had told myself after Royce I wouldn't get involved in a solider again," she whispered. "Now here I am, worrying over a stranger."

"We're all worried, Rose," Alice replied and patted her hand in comfort. "They need some comfort and support. It's all we can do."

Rose shook her head again and let out a long sigh.

"I found out what unit they're in, Alice. I doubt we'll hear from them again," she said and looked up at me with apologetic eyes.

"Don't say that!" I gasped, horrified she would even say it out loud.

"What do you mean you found out?" Alice asked, ignoring Roses' doomsday forecast.

"They're in the 502nd," she said matter of fact.

I knew this. Army Infantry. Front line. Probably on the beaches.

I forced the outcome of that out of my head.

Rose was staring at me.

"They were the first in, Bella," she continued. "All that training and drill talk? They were preparing for this invasion specifically."

I nodded, not following. Of course they might train for this. This invasion was big.

"Nothing you've said is a mystery, Rose. It doesn't mean they were on a suicide mission or anything," I said. "A lot of men made it on the beaches. They could have been those men."

"They didn't land on the beach, Bella," Rose said and looked away down at her bowl of untouched soup.

"What did they do then?" Alice pressed, looking more worried by the moment.

"They jumped in."

Jumped?

Alice's eyes grew wide as it clicked for her.

"Jumped?" I asked, that word triggering something I had heard before.

Alice nodded and gripped my arm.

"It didn't make sense until now. There's a man in recovery in one of the wards. Came in with shattered legs. Said he was in the 502nd. I didn't put it together!" she breathed.

"They're paratroopers, Bella," Rose said in a soft voice. "They jumped in last night, ahead of everyone else. Private Blake, the one Alice is talking about, didn't know what the mission was but told me this afternoon that if they went in, it was to capture airfields or roads. That's what they were training for. Night drops into enemy territory. He called it a suicide mission."

The conversations in my ward started to come together.

Men with death wishes. Those were the paratroopers.

And then Edward's words from early on. Signed up for what he did because he had nothing else.

_Probably be cut to pieces before they ever hit the ground._

My heart clenched.

_Oh Edward. _

_No. Please, no._

~~oo~~

**AN: Many of you guessed it- D-day on June 6th , 1944 was what Edward was drilling for.**

**The radio announcement in this chapter is of NBC's Robert St. John stating the events as they came in the morning of June 6th over the airwaves. Not until there was official announcements from Supreme Headquarters of the Allied Expeditionary Force in their Communique # 1 could they truly announce the invasion had begun, although German news agencies had been reporting it for a few hours before. **

**the 502nd was a division of the 101st Airborne, the Screaming Eagles. The "Five-O-Deuce" or "the Deuce" were instrumental, along with the other divisions of American Airborne and British Airborne in taking roads and bridges near the beaches of Normandy that would serve as exit points for our landing troops. **

**Fog and anti-aircraft defensive fire from the ground caused some issues with Paratroopers making their correct drops. Many of the Deuce were actually dropped in completely different areas than their designated drop zones, scattering them across the French countryside. Their first part of their mission soon became that of simply trying to find their units so that they could then continue on their mission to capture the town of St. Côme-du-Mont and the Douve river. Over 1500 men from their division would be killed in just the first few hours of jumping.**

**By sun up, some of the paratroopers (the 82d specifically) had managed to take over the towns surrounding the invasion beaches, but St. Côme-du-Mont was more difficult to take over. It was not until late on June 8th that they managed to capture the town and on June 10th, the Douve river. By June 13th, Airborne and support troops had secured Carentan, a major route for escape from Normandy. The full invasion force could move inland.**

**Airborne troops had heavy losses over those first few days, with heavy fighting and little support until a break could be made through the beach. Paratroopers jumped with over 70 pounds of equipment, plus their chutes. They had barely a days worth of rations, with expectations that they would get support within the 24 hours of jumping... For some it took nearly a week. Some found support from French citizens, who offered food, shelter and helped to hide evidence of their landing from German troops. but many would have to brave it alone until they could find support in the woods and fields inland from the beaches. **

**I'll talk more on what a paratrooper may have taken with him, and what his first few days might have been like in the next chapter...**

**More soon!**

**MWAH!**

**Steph**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hello my dears... so this chapter (and the next couple perhaps) were not really planned. I had not wanted to do an EPOV for this story at all, certainly not this early into the story (yes this is early, lol). I liked the mystery of him from Bella's POV. But with every hour of research, of every documentary I watched, this chapter came about... And yes, many of you asked for EPOV- although I don't think this is what you may have intended... **

**And in regards to many of your worried questions about HEA... This IS a HEA.. and it is canon in characters ( I won't have Bella marrying Jake in a sad fit over Edward dying in battle- not to worry) BUT- it is HURT/COMFORT listed... some of you know I like my characters to suffer some... BUT I PROMISE an HEA. **

**Faith.**

**Possible tissues? Maybe a bottle of wine... It may get a little intense... **

**I couldn't put it all in one chapter... it felt right to end this one where I did. You'll see... **

**Off to go eat some Hershey's chocolate... it was standard issue for our GIs.**

* * *

~~oo~~

I patted at my chest one more time, to make sure they were still nestled safely under my jacket.

A solid lump lay there, the bit of insulation Whitlock had teased me over for weeks.

I wouldn't leave them behind.

I couldn't carry them all with me, but I had a sizable stack tucked and taped down to my chest.

It was all I had of her.

_Bella._

The sun was dipping into the west as we stood there, waiting to get the last word to board and fulfil our destiny. I caught only bits and pieces of the speeches made by our leaders, something about duty and honor.

Victory, nothing less.

Whitlock fidgeted beside me, tightening his straps one more time across his shoulders in nervous anticipation. McCarty stood like a stoic statue, no sign of the playful buddy we had come to know showing in his menacing stance.

Hours ago we had been called down from this mission, the storm too dangerous for us to jump. We had been given a decent meal and a movie was set up in the mess tent.

I didn't watch it.

Instead I wrote.

Perhaps my last letter.

To Bella.

I had it and the other letters I had written the last couple of days in my pocket, ready to hand over to my chaplain before we boarded. He had told us they would be delivered as soon as we were gone. It still made me uneasy.

_Gone. _

"You think we'll go this time?"

I turned to Whitlock and tried to shrug. It was difficult through all the packs on my back. He smirked at my struggle and looked off towards the front of our division. Someone was milling through, probably our commander to get the last bits of our personals.

One last inspection.

"Sir, it's a privilege," McCarty said suddenly to someone in front of him.

I glanced his way and saw the stars on the man's shoulder.

"General, sir," I stammered and stood at attention.

Why was he here?

"At ease, soldier," he said in a warm voice and looked me over briefly. His eyes lingered at the opening of my jacket, at my chest. His eyes flitted back to mine and he smiled.

"Hold them close to you, son. They're the reason we do this."

"Sir?"

He tapped my chest, right where Bella's letters sat, the bulge of them obviously more visible than I had thought.

"We fight for their freedom, son. For everyone's freedom from tyranny and oppression. We fight for America and our allies. But more than that. We fight for those at home. The love they offer you will keep you safe as you fight for them. Do not forget that."

He nodded and didn't wait for me to respond, moving to the next group of men, shaking hands and speaking to them.

Like a man with his close friends.

General Eisenhower, leader of the Allied forces had just told me to fight for those at home.

I touched the letters under my jacket again, feeling all the care and worry Bella had conveyed in her letters cushion my withered heart. Perhaps he was right.

I'd fight.

If just to see Bella.

What I had written in my latest letter was the truth. Frightening as it was to write out, I needed to say it, in case it was my last chance. Just the words on paper had been a release of sorts.

A promise.

A fervent wish to stay alive.

If just to see her.

Touch her.

Kiss…

"We're lining up, come on Masen, our heads will be in the clouds soon enough," Whitlock said beside me and nudged me towards McCarty as he started to move towards our transport.

I looked around for the chaplain, fear gripping me suddenly.

"He'll collect them once we're in line," Whitlock said behind me. "Don't worry, I checked. I wanted to get some letters off too, just in case."

"We are not going to die," McCarty boomed over his shoulder at us. "We're going to kick Hitler's ass back to hell and end this war. I'm ready to go home and start my life. Those damn Germans aren't going to ruin it for me!"

I smiled ruefully at McCarty's back and thought about what he said. Our commander's speech and letter he'd given each of us had been motivation enough. But it was my personal motivation that drove me towards our transport now.

General Eisenhower's words played in my head.

We fight for those at home.

Three months ago I had no one to fight for. I was alone in the world.

McCarty had his family, little brothers too young to fight and his sisters. Whitlock had an ailing mother who would die should something happen to him.

I had no one.

Then.

Now. I sighed and touched my chest again. My chest hurt in a strange way. Similar to how I felt as I had buried my parents.

Pain. A tightness that was slightly uncomfortable but welcomed. It meant I could feel again.

I shouldn't feel for this girl, but I did. So much so she led to distraction some days.

This was why I didn't want to commit to anything. Letters were easy. I could remain distant.

But I hadn't.

Somehow, in just the context of her words, I had committed. I had a chest full of words now pressed against me as proof that I was something to someone. I had someone at home to fight for. She had tried to make herself distant in her last few letters, and I grinned at my boots as I recalled her confession to having some kind of feelings for me.

A girl had feelings for me. I didn't even know what she looked like.

The grin slipped and my free hand touched my trouser pocket, where my unsent letters lay.

I'd probably never know.

But the words were there. I'd send it. Because this was my last chance.

I stood a little taller, although my back was starting to ache from the weight of the pack and waited with everyone else as we slowly made our way towards the hatch. It was only eighteen of us, but it took forever to get into the damn plane. With the weight of the pack and our musette and reserve bulking up our front, it was hard as hell to get up into the plane.

But we knew this from all the jumps before.

This one just had a stronger sense of finality to it.

As I neared the doorway, I saw the chaplain standing beside it, talking with each man, offering a prayer and taking whatever each soldier felt like giving. Beside him stood a large duffel, brimming with letters and trinkets. I touched my trouser leg again, contemplating.

"Do it, Masen, or you'll regret it," Whitlock said behind me.

McCarty stepped up to the chaplain, who recited a prayer and then McCarty handed him a large stack of letters. He glanced back at me with the grin and then managed his foot up onto the ladder. With an indelicate shove on his backside, I helped him in.

And then it was my turn.

"A prayer son?"

"Just that I make it out alive," I said and rummaged through my trouser pocket.

I pulled out the letters and held them for a moment, afraid to let them go. I looked up at the chaplain who regarded me with kind eyes.

"I'll make sure they get to where they need to go," he said.

I held them for just another second before extending my arm to him, the letters slipping through my hand into his with a painful disconnect.

"As soon as we leave?" I asked, the fear beginning to grip me once more.

"As soon as the plane is off the ground, son," he replied and touched my shoulder gently. "It is my mission to see it done. It's your mission to come back."

I nodded and paused before struggling to get my foot up to the ladder rung. I watched as he placed the letters gingerly into the bag and turned to me once more.

"May God look after you and protect you. May He keep your weapon clear and true. May He give you wind to guide you to your destination, and courage to succeed in your mission. Amen."

"Amen," I murmured and lifted my heavy leg to the rung, feeling a great shove from Whitlock that helped propel my weighted body into the plane.

I settled in next to McCarty, who was already dozing against the hull. I looked down the line at the mass of men, their faces blackened to disguise us in our night drop. We all looked the same. Blacked out, with the whites of our eyes and our teeth glimmering brightly when one would laugh or joke with his buddy next to him.

Whitlock hunkered down beside me, adjusting his straps and equipment for the hundreth time.

He glanced at me and chuckled, turning his attention to the man across from us.

Captain Neill sat there looking back at us with his emotions laid out bare.

I supposed we all held the same look on our faces.

Nervous.

Finding courage as we could.

This was what we had trained for, done it hundreds of times it seemed.

But this was different.

I didn't fear my chute wouldn't open. I had faith in that.

It was the after.

Would I encounter hostile fire?

Would there be woods?

Or spikes like we had heard, impaling us as we landed in the dark.

Enemies in the fields?

Death seemed quite tangible now.

We sat there on the tarmac for what seemed like hours. Waiting for the go. It was probably only an hour, but it felt like eternity.

When the engines roared to life it startled McCarty awake.

"We there?" he called over the rumble.

"Haven't even taken off!" Whitlock jeered. The camaraderie was forced. We had been pals since training, and yet now we knew this could be the last time we spoke.

"What did you write to your girl?" Whitlock asked as the plane started to move.

"She's not my girl," I clarified. Although in my heart, with the papers she had written nestled there, he and I both knew I was kidding myself.

He chuckled and shook his head.

"How many letters did you bring? I know it's not all of them," he said and struck me squarely over the bundle. It barely hurt.

"Just the important ones," he replied and looked off towards the rear door.

In truth I had hated leaving some of them behind. But she had sent me well over two dozen letters since we had started, and I had too much to carry as it was. So I chose the eight most important ones.

It had taken all day to figure out which ones to take.

I touched the padded area one more time and smiled, knowing I had a piece of her with me. Even if I died tonight, I would have a bit of comfort. I would not think about what I was leaving behind, or what her reaction would be to my letters after learning of my death. I had spoken the truth, bared my soul, and I was at peace with that.

But I would fight. Just so that I could tell her in person.

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine her, as she had described herself.

She had said she was ordinary, but I doubted it.

Brunette, with perhaps those doe eyes that made you want to sweep a girl off her feet and hear her scream in delight at your mischief.

A shapely figure, petite perhaps.

Or not.

Buxom and tall.

No, petite. She seemed the sort. One that would fit nicely along the curve of my side as I held her walking to the cinema. We'd walk hand in hand, or with my arm around her protectively to confirm for all to see that she was mine.

She'd make fun of me for being so, but I'd simply smile and tell her I cared while I pulled her closer to me.

She would be so beautiful looking up at me.

As we danced.

As I touched her chin, tipping her head up.

As we kissed.

As we….

"Drop zone in ten! Airborne, clip in!"

My eyes shot open at the order, my body moving on automatic as I stood and clipped into the wire. We were near the back, so we'd be some of the first to jump. The plane rocked slightly and jolted with the first bit of flack fire.

I heard the count down from behind me, waiting for McCarty to sound off.

"Four good!" he shouted and rapped me hard on the back.

"Three good!" I yelled, hearing Whitlock call off and then braced as the plane jolted again.

"Three minutes!"

"Who's the best?" the captain screamed in front of Whitlock.

"WE ARE!" we shouted in unison.

My heart was racing.

"What were we born to do?"

"JUMP and KILL!"

My mouth was dry. It was too hot in the plane, already I could feel my shirt dampening under my flak jacket. My hands were sweating.

"What's our mission?"

"KILL SOME GERMANS AND END THIS WAR!"

"You will pave the way for our army to defeat the tyranny of Germany! You will take whatever means necessary to secure our positions! We are Airborne and we will conquer!

"VICTORY! NOTHING LESS, SIR!"

"VICTORY! NOTHING LESS!"

"One minute! Prepare to greenlight!"

I felt McCarty pat me on the back, his smile eerily white through his blackened face.

"If we get out of this alive, I'm marrying that girl!" he shouted.

My heart hammered harder.

I could see in his eyes he meant it.

"I just want a kiss!" I called back and he let out a bark of a laugh.

"Oh, brother! If you get out of this alive, I'm going to work on your priorities!" he shouted and then nodded ahead of us.

I turned to see the captain giving the thumbs up, just as another barrage of explosions rocked the plane. This time it made contact and the jolt was so forceful it knocked him in the side of the door, the captain's face grimacing slightly.

"Nothing to worry about! Just some cloud cover and fearful blind shooting! Remember the drop zone!"

Whitlock threw me a cocky grin and prepared by the door, his frame blocking out the air the whistled in from the door.

And then the green light lit up by the door and Whitlock was disappearing into the dark.

I was pushed towards the door, my periphery watching for the red light to turn green. Almost as soon as I reached the door the green lit up and I felt myself pushed from the plane.

Into blackness.

Not even a moon to guide me.

But the red of the tracer fire was bright and everywhere.

I forgot to count and had a moment's panic that I had waited too long but then I felt the whiplash effect of the chute jerk me back. Instinct took over and my body miraculously knew to stay in position, or I'd die before I even broke the clouds.

In the murky dark I could just make out Whitlock's chute far below me, as well as other bodies floating from the squadron of planes. The tracer fire arced and spread across the night sky and lit up the clouds as I pierced them into nothingness.

We had only jumped a few times in the dark, and never through cloud cover, so the moment I couldn't see made my stomach lurch. Before I could react or become more afraid I was punching through and could discern mottled textures on the ground far below me.

Nowhere could I see any colored flares. The earth below me was black except the firing of antiaircraft guns. I looked around me as best I could, my neck tight from the straps of my chute, but I couldn't make out anything.

Wind rushed past me making it impossible to hear anything, and the air was cold, my overheated body wanted to convulse from the chill.

And still I dropped.

As the ground drew closer, so did the tracer fire and more than once bullets screamed past me, narrowly missing my canvas and me. I heard something to my left and I tried to turn my head, getting turned enough to see another chute descending close to me.

He was drifting closer and falling a little faster than I was, but my mind did the calculations automatically and I knew unless he pulled on his guides, he'd collide into me.

I couldn't call out, we were mere few hundred or so feet above the ground and calling out would alert the enemy of our presence. So I did what I could. Grabbing onto my guides, I steered as best I could away from the man closing in. He drew ever closer, and when he was within about thirty feet I noticed the holes in his chute, and his head was pushed forward.

He was going in too fast, thanks to the bullet holes that had ripped through, and as he rushed past me, coming within feet of fouling my own lifeline, I saw his face as it rolled from side to side.

Eyes wide open.

Mouth slack.

Dead before he hit the ground.

I grabbed my lines and tried to redirect myself, but the wind had picked up as we drew closer. The dead man disappeared to my right and behind me, and I could only concentrate now on my own life.

The ground was coming fast. In the dark you could never know how close it really was.

But as it neared, my mind seemed to slow it down as I took in the dark shapes rushing towards me.

One hundred feet.

Black outreaching forms waving below me. A lighter patch beyond but not within reach.

The wind was moving me away from the light and into the dark.

Sixty feet I think.

No idea.

Fuck. Fuck Fuck fuck. Fuck.

Trees.

The black rushed up and surrounded me, crashing into me as my touchdown point was severely shortened.

And I was jolted and tumbled and thrown in to the black.

~~oo~~

* * *

**Yep... cliffy... damn I am cruel... I know... another EPOV next. I'm not sure how many there will be- these are coming to me off the cuff, out of order from what I have written from BPOV- so we'll see where he takes me.**

**A little disclaimer. The derogatory remarks to Germans was strictly in character of young soldiers of the time fighting their enemy. I'm German descent, I mean no ill to my German readers. I love you all. It was simply the propaganda of the day. It was a dark time in German history, and sadly many of the boys (and girls) forced to fight had no choice. Some did, and that's the same with all wars. But please don't think it was a means to disrespect. ( I hate even having to disclaim that, readers should know I am all about the love...:D)**

**History time! **

**Allied Airborne units took off shortly after midnight on June 6th on their course to land behind enemy lines to secure roads and bridges leading out of Normandy. Their mission was vital to the success of the invasion. If the roads weren't secured, our men would be stuck on the beaches and picked off when reinforcements came. **

**It was expected that paratroopers would get relief with 24-48 hours. For some it did not arrive for days. **

**A paratrooper as I have said, carried over 70 plus pounds of gear- over 100lbs with the chutes and weapons. The had a reserve chute strapped to their front, at chest level- a life preserver (called a Daisy Mae), a musette strapped below the reserve chute, which carried his rations, a shaving and talc kit, a cricket (a toy they used for making signals to others- it sounded like a cricket), a spoon and can opener and gum and charms candy (small energy food, sadly)**

**He had a choice of weapon, many liked the M-1 rifle, a bag of clips for weapon, and a knife strapped to his ankle. They also kept a knife at their belt in case they needed to cut loose from their chute. A trench tool (camping shovel we'd call it today), a tank mine strapped to his other ankle, canteen at his hip under his main chute,gas mask, gas detector, and a colt .45 pistol. All this over his jump uniform (let me strip Edward from the ground up for you... you know you like it!)**

**White Tshirt under uniform coat, which was the parachute jacket you see. Insignia of rank and the unit on arm (screaming eagle or the widow maker for Edward's unit)**

**trousers had bellows pockets for securing items to carry (compass, map, first aid kit, paper, pen, etc)**

**Boots were high laced and parachutists bloused their trousers into their boots to keep them secure, this is how you knew a man was Airborne. wearing your trousers bloused and you weren't earned you a good beating from Airborne men. **

**Cap stowed in pockets when wearing the helmet, insignia on helmet displayed rank and unit. netted for camouflage. **

**and gloves of leather horsehide so that they were flexible yet durable. **

**That in a nutshell was what they dropped in they snuck in some skivvies or spare socks, but they weren't issue. That was personal. And no where in the list have I seen toothpaste or toothbrush. Sure they did tho. I want Edward with minty breath while he's killing the enemy. **

**More soon. **

**Another bit of Edward coming up. Don't worry... He's not dead in a tree or in a ditch. And he has all his limbs... I promise. **

**MWAH! **

**steph**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hello Again! I am so glad you liked the EPOV! It was totally off the outline, so I am doing this sort of on the fly (exciting, but maddening too!) So it is nice to see that you have enjoyed it!**

**Let's see how Edward's situation pans out. :)**

* * *

~~oo~~

I felt my jacket rip as the branches grabbed at me, slowing my fall only enough so that when my chute snagged on the upper branches. If I hadn't already lost my breath from the beating coming in, I would have lost it for sure as my body was yanked to a sudden stop.

I suppose it was good the wind was knocked out of me.

The words I wanted to let loose would have alerted my position to the gunner several yards away from me.

A miracle he didn't hear me coming in.

I struggled not to gasp when my lungs refilled suddenly and the colors shifting in my field of vision cleared so that I could see what I could in the darkness.

I hung perhaps ten or so feet in the air and already my legs felt like they were losing all feeling. I had to get myself down quietly. One arm was twisted up in my lines on the ride down, I used my good arm to slide my knife out of its sheath slowly. The gunner off to my left continued his barrage and I could hear him yelling at his comrades.

I glanced at the gear on my body and sawed off the reserve pack at my chest, lowering it slowly to my feet before dropping at as the gunner let of another round.

My musette was next with another round and then I was set to cutting my lines.

Adrenaline coursed through me as I slowly worked on my tangled lines, breathing slowly even though my lungs burned and desperately wanted me to breathe more heavily to fill them correctly.

One line through and my body jerked slightly.

I almost lost my knife from the jostling.

A slow breath out and then another line, freeing my twisted arm. Another jerk rattled me but this time I grabbed a hold of the fourth line at my front. The chute was still too taut to let me loosen my harness to get out. With the third line gone I was left gripping the last as my body started to slip through the harness. I held my breath and unhooked the buckles to my legs and felt the rush of blood work through them as I held fast to the last line. As soon as I let go of the chest buckle I dropped, just as the gunner stopped his volley.

The ground was soft when I landed; my body sprawled close to the leaves and dirt to remain hidden. I listened around me, trying to gain my bearings. Glancing up, my chute fluttered in the breeze. Nothing to do about it, but I had to move before it was found.

They'd come looking for the man missing from the chute.

I crawled to my musette and tied it around my back, the fastenings ruined from the knife. Pulling my M-1 out of its sleeve I slid along the dirt silently, away from the gunner and towards what I presumed was a field ahead.

I had landed not too far from the field I had seen from the sky and as soon as I could get under the cover of the tall grasses, I'd be safer than I was currently. The gunner continued behind me and while I knew I should take him out, but I had no idea how many there were.

Call it a cowardly moment.

Hiding in the grass.

But the training kicked in. Judging scenarios and accommodating them for the mission was our strong points as Paratroopers. We had little control over anything else.

Like wind and landing in a tree. You accommodated.

With my heart pumping hard so that it was difficult to hear anything over it, I crawled to the safety of the grass and paused.

Breathed slow.

Listened.

Gunfire to my left.

Guns to my right.

I could hear everything once I was still.

I checked the sky above me and could see the planes had long departed.

The sky was clear.

We were down in one way or another and our mission was at hand.

My heart slowed infinitesimally, but the adrenaline waned and the fatigue crashed through me. My entire body ached from my fall but I had no time for that. I had no concept of time as I lay there. It could have been minutes, or hours.

Gunfire moved away from me and as it did I slowly rolled up to a squat and to recon my position. I had no bearings on my position or where the hell our assembly area was in relation to where I had been dropped.

All I knew was that I was alone.

I continued away from the distant gunfire, towards what looked like an abandoned barn near the edge of the field.

Quietly, and slowly so as not to alert anyone of my presence.

A fluttering noise to my right had me on my haunches, heart pounding again. Peering in to the dark, I noticed the flutter of a chute about thirty feet away. I closed in cautiously, knowing that if a man had been able, he would have stowed his chute. It was suicide to leave it out. It announced your presence like a beacon.

But perhaps he was hit.

Wounded.

I made my way closer and when I knew I was within several feet I paused and listened.

"Flash," I whispered, waiting for an answer.

Nothing.

I crept a couple of feet down low, gun at the ready.

"Flash."

Nothing.

Just the fluttering of the chute. I could see it was shot up.

I don't think my heart ever had a chance to really slow, so I crept towards the chute, following the lines to where I saw him.

The man who had almost hit me coming down.

I drew a little closer and quickly pulled his chute in, so as not to draw attention to us. As soon as I had it bundled I took a look at him a little more closely. I didn't recognize him, he wasn't from my stick, but he was still one of us. I quickly pulled at his tags and retrieved one, to report to an officer in charge as soon as I made it to the assembly area. I didn't look at the name- knowing it would only make it harder to forget when I had nightmares of seeing his face as he fell from the sky.

I worked with purpose, clearing his ammunition into my pack, pulling his musette off of him and transferring my items into his. Food stores, compass, any intel went into my pockets. Personal items into my pack. Weapons strapped to me.

I was methodical in my work.

I felt numb.

But alert.

I'm not sure what to call it.

Working on instinct?

Whatever, I was pulling his rifle bag from his shoulder when I heard the rustling ahead of me.

I dropped down low, rifle at the ready.

"Flash," I heard from several feet away.

"Thunder," I replied, relief coursing through me at the idea of a friendly nearby.

It didn't mean I put my rifle down. It was dark. The enemy could have learned the code by now.

"502nd- state your name," I whispered.

"McCarty, 502nd."

"Emmett?" I whispered, shocked.

"Masen?"

Through the grass, McCarty's lumbering frame slunk through, the whites of his eyes the only thing truly vibrant in the dark.

"Thank god for a friendly face," he whispered and then frowned when he saw the body.

"Not in our stick," I confirmed and nodded where he had come. "Have you met up with anyone?"

He shook his head and nodded behind me.

"Nothing but Krauts and this guy," I confirmed.

"Know where we are?" he asked in barely a whisper.

I shook my head and slipped my map out of my pocket.

"Haven't even looked at the map yet. Don't even know where to start," I murmured and unfolded it, squinting to see in the dark.

We had memorized the maps in our head, but with being turned around, working in the dark with little to know landmarks, it was impossible to go off memory.

I struggled to find any relevant landmarks in relation to our location.

"Were you hit?"

I glanced up to see his eyes were staring at my shoulder. I looked at it through the dark and noticed the darkening wet patch there. I had no idea I had been hit. I touched the area and noticed it was a little tender, but shook it off. It'd hurt like hell once I thought about it.

"I'm fine, you good?" I said concentrating on the map again.

"Yeah, landed a little rough in a gulley, skinned my knee," he said and then covered his mouth over a snicker.

I looked at him in confusion.

"Sorry, it's just," he whispered and clamped his mouth shut, looking around. "I'm whining about a skinned knee and you have a real battle wound."

I pursed my lips at him and concentrated on the map again. The more he talked about the wound, the more it throbbed. I needed to ignore it until we got to safer ground.

"Sun will be up in a few hours, we should find a safe place until we can get our bearings," I continued.

"Thunder."

We both jerked towards the sound of the voice to my right and repeated the response word. Through the grass came four more men, none of which were from our stick.

"501st," one man said and glanced at the dead guy beside us. "That was our lieutenant."

"Where was your assembly point?" I asked, confused why 501st would be so close to us.

"South side of Sainte Mère- Église. You?" he asked.

I grimaced and shook my head.

"West side."

"So which side are we on?" another of the men asked.

"Hell if I know," I muttered and motioned towards the barn. "Let's recon over to the barn, hold tight for an hour or so and try and get our bearings."

"Who put you in charge?" one of the men asked.

McCarty shot him that menacing look I knew was a few seconds from becoming a brawl.

"The Germans when they took out your lieutenant. Corporal Masen holds rank," he shot back.

The idea of that staggered me.

Me? In charge?

Of what?

A small unit of Privates?

This was insane.

But then again we were still alive.

The men eyed me for a moment and then nodded, agreeing silently to take flank as we made our way towards the barn. Once inside and having done a cursory perimeter, we hunkered down, switching our packs to better positions on our bodies and taking vigil while I scoured the map with one of the 501st.

"I think we're here," he said and pointed at a mark on the map. "I saw the roads as I came in, and the woods there are here. Looks like we're a few miles from the west and south sides."

I nodded and calculated our path.

Probably plenty of Germans between us and our assembly.

Mission impossible.

In the best of situations, we were maybe an hour's march off mark. With Germans, and unknown terrain, it could be hours.

"So what do we do?" McCarty asked as he squatted beside us.

"Hold up here or go, those are the only two options," I said.

As much as I wanted to hide and wait until sunrise, I knew staying so close to known enemy placement was risking it.

"So we go?" the private asked.

I nodded.

It was the only thing to do. I wanted to be relieved of my leadership duty as soon as possible. The only way to do that was get to an assembly area. Find a CO and get on with our task.

"All right," McCarty said, grinning. "Maybe I'll get to shoot some Germans after all."

I swallowed the lump in my throat at his enthusiasm. Killing had never been my reason for joining. An unavoidable task, but I had hoped I would never get the chance to see them.

"You want to dress your wound first?" the private asked.

We worked at getting my jacket and gear off, the private looking at me funny when I shrugged off my t shirt underneath. He looked at the binding, holding my package at my chest. I looked down, having forgotten it was even there.

Strange.

I hadn't even thought of Bella since jumping out of that plane.

Now, seeing her letters protected against me, she flooded my mind in a torrent.

Her words. Her worries. Her requests for me to be safe.

Would I ever see her? Meet her?

Would she wait for me? Or would she move along?

Was she writing me right this instant?

I wondered if perhaps she was praying for me. When would she discover I had gone to this place?

For just a moment, I wondered. For just a moment, I was allowed to dream of stepping off the ship in New York and seeing her there, waiting for me.

"Corporal Masen? I'm done."

I blinked and looked up into the man's eyes. Just like that, I was back in the present.

No time to dream.

Not anymore.

He was eyeing the bindings and letters once more. I simply nodded and pulled my shirt back on, feeling a little stiffness in my shoulder from the bandage.

"It wasn't too deep. Looked like a puncture," he said.

"Probably from the tree branches," I murmured and continued getting dressed. Now that I had been sitting for a while, I could feel my body rebelling.

"We should head out," I said and strapped on my belt and ammo case, on task once more.

The men made no objection, falling in behind McCarty and me as we took point. One look at my compass and we were on our way. I hoped we would find little offensive on the march. We had over three miles to march, in a strange land in the dark of night.

Anything could happen.

And the way these men looked at me made me uneasy.

I was no leader.

I followed.

But now, five men looked to me for orders.

Not time for dreaming.

No time for Bella.

No time to regret that thought.

I needed to concentrate now, for my patched up unit.

I just needed to get us to Sainte Mère Église soon.

So I could transfer this sudden duty from my shoulders that felt very heavy now.

No time to do anything but get through this.

~~oo~~

* * *

**AN: I blame Band of Brothers for this chapter... was watching it while writing... (which may be why Edward is so damn wordy!) If you haven't watched BoB, you should. AWESOME miniseries from HBO!**

**History!**

**So what the hell is Flash/Thunder and Sticks and all that Malarcky (heehee, there's a soldier in BoB named Malarky- what an unfortunate name growing up!) sorry I digress.**

**OK- when troops entered Normandy, they had challenge and response code words to identify friendly troops the they encountered (either hiding in the bush, or that they came upon) In this time, it was "Flash/Thunder". It would change as missions changed, but it would not be so common that the enemy could decipher it. so you wouldn't hear them with a "Apples/Oranges" challenge response, or "Peanut Butter/Jelly" response. ( I must be hungry!)**

**If the friendly responded, all was good. If not... well that meant you were free to open fire. You didn't have to always start with "flash" you could also say "thunder" first, and the other party would need to respond with it's counterpart.**

**Paratroopers dropped in groups of roughly 20 men, called sticks. I'm still working on the reason why its called a stick(although it is also used for a term of a cluster of bombs dropped in quick succession so they drop in a tight area- so this sounds very similar) ... but a group of soldiers in general loaded into a transport is called a "chalk", which came from the white chalk lines on the sides of planes and vehicles to mark and update the number of personnel and equipment in the vehicle.**

**OK, I think I have one more EPOV in me coming up... in a couple days. Then back to Bella (and a time jump- you all are dying for those letters from Edward... hehehehehehehe- they're coming)**

**Thanks so much for the great reviews/pimps/discussions! You guys are great!**

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	21. Chapter 21

**Hello again! Sorry it took so long- long week at work, migraines and Edward writing... lol**

**But this one is long. **

**Um, tissues...wine, chocolate...maybe disclaimer there will be blood?**

**This is the last chapter of EPOV, and then back to BPOV... yes I may write another EPOV later on... **

**so let's see how he is:**

* * *

~oo~~

We walked in the darkness for some time, ears alert and feet silent as we trod through the underbrush of the unknown French countryside. Our only assurance that we were even walking in the right direction our compasses we had clipped to our jackets.

We encountered little, gunfire in the distance or the simple yet eerie quiet that only made us more keen to meet up with more of our units so that we could feel less vulnerable out in the open with no knowledge of what lay in wait for us.

It was still well before dawn when we heard the tell tale cricket coming ahead of us. I pulled us up short and dropped my unit down into the overgrown grasses, listening and waiting before answering with my own cricket device.

Another click and then I heard a man call out before gun fire blazed across the field away from us. Just to our left, I heard the cursing of an English speaking man and calculated the distance while across the field return gunfire streamed towards us.

At least a dozen enemy troops held the far field.

At least, I was pretty sure they were enemies.

At the brief silence between shots, I called out hoarsely to the group of men to our left, hearing the response I wanted.

Friendlies.

Motioning my men towards them, we practically crawled to them as gunfire shot out again from the end of the field.

Another brief interlude and suddenly me and my men were sliding into a drainage ditch and coming face to face with some friendly faces.

"Wondered where you ended up," Whitlock retorted when McCarty and I slid in next to him.

Another battery of gunfire, this time coming very close had us all hunkering down.

"Winds took me pretty far off," I explained and passed Whitlock another round for his gun.

He looked far worse for wear- his head bandaged where a nasty gash still showed, and his right eye was partially closed from being hit hard. He was covered in dirt and mud, almost blending in to the ditch we hid in. But he was all business as he took in my group of men.

"They landed near me about a mile or two back," I explained briefly and looked off to his group. There were half a dozen men, all about as dirty as Whitlock, and all looking to him.

"What do you want to do Corporal?" he said, smirking.

I blinked at him.

"You're a corporal too, Whitlock. This is your call," I started.

He shrugged and glanced at the new men around us.

"It's all a matter of semantics now, isn't it? None of us have done this before," he grumbled and ducked again with the new barrage above our heads. Grimacing, he turned from me t shoot at our enemy. His men followed his lead, spraying the far field with haphazard fire.

I looked to my men and nodded, sliding in beside Whitlock to take position. I understood why he was dirty then when I felt the damp ground soak my knees and elbows.

"Do you know who you're firing at?" I asked as I aimed towards the hedgerow far ahead.

"Confused unit of Germans that came down the road behind the trees there," he said and pointed towards where we had come. "They ducked for cover when we opened fire. Been here for over an hour shooting at each other."

"we need to get around them and cut them off," McCarty chimed in. "If they have trucks, who knows how much ammo they have."

Whitlock and I nodded and I pulled a couple of my men to me, signalling how we'd maneuver around and try and cut them off. One last nod to Whitlock and McCarty and I with my men were slinking off in the dark, around and towards the enemy.

My body was chilled to the bone from the wet earth soaking in, and yet I was sweating. Controlled breaths were the only thing to keep me from hyperventilating. Nothing but our target was on my mind as we moved, bullets passing above our heads and cold wet earth below us.

We were within several yards when the gunfire changed. Another volley, somewhere behind the target suddenly shot through the night, and soon we heard the screams of the Germans. I pushed my team down just in time as a group of fleeing Germans broke from the hedgerows ahead of us.

Guns aimed, instinct in place.

I don't remember firing.

I heard the guns around me go off, felt the recoil of my own.

But my eyes were frozen on the men in front of us as they fell.

A few shots from them, screams and then down into the wet earth they went.

I had never shot a man before. But my gun had fired, and they had fallen.

I felt an eerie disconnect as I pulled the trigger.

As I watched them fall in front of me.

Then more gunfire from the bushes, another man bursting out and falling.

No time to think, just aim and shoot. Before you got shot.

My eyes tracked every man as they fell, wide eyed and clearly visible even in the dark.

Gunfire again, and this time I heard a cry near me.

Dragging my eyes from the falling bodies before me, I found one of my men, the one who had bandaged my shoulder, slumped near my feet. I crawled closer to him, reaching for him with my injured arm to pull him closer.

He straightened out, the blood gushing from his neck as he grasped and clawed at the wound. Everything faded away as I focused on him, dragging him back under the brush to afford us a little cover.

"I can't," he gurgled and his eyes went wide. "Help."

I reached for the wound, knowing as soon as my cold and muddy fingertips touched the heated fluid rushing out of him, he didn't have long.

"I didn't," he stuttered and grabbed at my chest gripping the jacket and my letters underneath with a death grip.

"It's okay," I lied. "You'll be okay."

"Didn't tell her," he groaned and his breath came in hiccups.

"Didn't tell her?" I said, forgetting everything around us, wanting to focus on him and what could be his last words.

"Love her. Didn't tell her," he gasped and gripped my jacket harder, ripping at the tape and bindings that held my precious letters to me. "Tell her for me."

His body shuddered and his eyes watered, the blood running through both our hands now as he grasped onto his neck.

"Tell her," he murmured and took another wet breath.

I nodded and watched as his face relaxed slightly.

His hand slipped from his neck and he reached under his jacket with shaking hands, fumbling for something inside. His body shuddered again and his hands slipped with the wet, until he dragged one out from under his coat, a crumpled envelope in his grip. He shoved it towards my chest, over my own letters.

"Tell her….love her…I….tell her."

The hand with the letter slipped down my front, still clasping it tight. I watched as his eyes widened only slightly, staring into mine with so much intensity. And then, like the sun setting in the sky, his eyes dimmed, becoming unfocused as he gave in to death.

I had never watched a man die before.

And here, in this godforsaken place, with a man I didn't know, I watched as his life slipped through my fingers. Forgotten were the bullets flying past, the yelling and the sudden quiet.

I watched the man's eyes dim until they became almost glassy and unfocused on anything. His mouth sagged, and his body became heavy against me

He was gone.

"Masen, we're clear."

I hardly registered McCarty speaking somewhere beside me.

"Reinforcements, we're clear. All the Germans are dead."

And the man in my arms had asked me to tell her.

He had kept his letter close to his heart, like me.

"Masen."

I dragged my eyes from the dead man in my arms and looked up to find McCarty and the rest of our small unit standing above us, looking down at the man in my arms.

"We need to get going," McCarty said a little more gently. "He's gone,Masen."

Did we just leave him?

Like the Lieutenant in the field?

It was so much harder after talking with this man, and watching him die.

He had asked me to tell her.

I gently extricated the blood soaked envelope from his fingers, swallowing down the bile at the thought that it could have been me asking.

"He has more in his pocket," one of his team said and nodded towards where his other hand was tucked under the jacket.

I opened his jacket and found what he had been struggling to grab.

A small bundle of letters, tied to his body with medical bindings.

A bundle like mine.

"He was going to ask her to marry him before he left, but he chickened out."

I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath.

A few hours into this mission and already I had seen enough.

"We need to get moving soldiers, bridges to take!" a man somewhere behind us bellowed.

"Come on Masen," McCarty said and offered me a hand.

I reached in to the man's jacket and took his letters, and his tag, adding it to my collection of the dead. McCarty helped me up and nodded towards the man at our feet.

"He won't be our last, Masen. But you'll always remember him," he said and stepped away towards the group of men forming.

I looked down at the man once more and realized I didn't even know his name. I dug out the dog tags, peering at the names on the two. I didn't know which was which.

T. Crowley

J. Jenks

"Let's go, Airborne! Let's move."

Instinct took over once again.

I moved into formation, not looking back.

As soon as I could talk to the man barking orders, I'd hand him the dog tags and relinquish my duty to them. The letters I shoved into my pocket with the tags and wiped away the blood still on my hand, marking up my muddy jacket more.

There was that disconnect again.

Instinct took over as soon as we started to march.

Away from the dead.

Away from life.

Away from myself.

There was a disconnect. Because if there wasn't I'd end up like them.

~~oo~~

Looking out over the village, I felt a sense of pride as the young boys ran across the road, yelling something I couldn't understand from the bell tower.

The fight for Carentan had been bloody.

Every day had been bloody.

I lost count of the dead I saw.

The ones I killed, and the ones that died beside me.

Couldn't think about it.

I had to stay alive.

Since that first night, I had felt something change in me.

War changes people.

That disconnect I had felt the first night was still there. It had hardened me.

The dawn of our first day in France, we had seen just what we had done. Hulled out buildings from the bombings.

Dead paratroopers, still in their chutes.

We passed them on our way to where we were needed.

No time to collect their belongings. Not our job.

Disconnect.

Dead Germans, and more as the day progressed.

Night into day, day into night. We fought.

I don't remember sleeping.

Dreams?

Yes.

Nightmares.

Wide open eyes that glazed over.

Not the first I'd see.

McCarty had been right.

Another of my men, another 501st died the next day.

Whitlock nearly lost his head when a mortar exploded close by. Three died around him. He walked away.

But there was that disconnect.

Day to night, night to day. We fought.

Dead and more dead.

Orders and we took them.

Villages passed.

Bridges taken.

Our troops passed, heading inland.

And we followed.

Orders followed.

Disconnect.

And now we were here.

Carentan.

Roads leading inland, and we had freed the town. Tanks and trucks barrelled through and we held the main roads.

Too many dead to count to take the town.

Too many to count.

Now here we were.

"Mail call down in the mess," Whitlock called from the lower level of the bell tower.

I looked down at the letters in my hands and paused.

One to Bella.

One to a Lauren Mallory.

He had asked me to tell her.

I swallowed and tucked the letters into my pocket, nodding to Felix who was just coming onto watch. I climbed down the stairs and met up with Whitlock as we exited out onto the street. He handed me a cigarette and I took it gratefully.

Something I had picked up quickly to ward off the stress.

"You finish it?" he asked.

I nodded.

"What did you say?"

I took a long drag of the cigarette and nodded to the boys that cut across us in the street.

"I just told her he died thinking of her. He loved her," I replied, Crowley's eyes in my mind again.

I had seen the regret and the desperation in them when he had spoken.

He hadn't said his peace to his girl.

I pulled out the letters, turning them over and over in my fingers.

"You wrote to Bella, too?"

I nodded, taking another drag.

It was a strange feeling, writing to her again.

We hadn't had time for so long. I had pushed her away for days. Weeks?

How many days was I here?

I had no idea.

Days, years. I really didn't know. Time was nothing now.

But starting a letter to her had been hard.

I didn't know what to say.

There was a disconnect.

It was different.

All the things I had said in my last letter, would she believe me?

Should I have said them to her, having no idea what I was asking of her?

I knew now.

Seeing Crowley in his last breath.

And knowing that he had left her behind.

I couldn't do that to Bella.

I had every intention of sending this letter to her.

Saving her from what I expected Lauren Mallory would go through.

It was best.

Clean break. Before it had ever started.

The pain in my chest strengthened, feeling light and bared because it's armor was firmly tucked away in my bag. I wouldn't wear it after the first night.

I wouldn't hurt her.

I'd mail this letter.

And end it.

The mess hall was full of men, waiting for the CO to start reading out the names. I didn't expect to hear my name. Not here.

Sure she wrote letters. She always wrote letters.

Too many.

But I was here. I was sure there were a ton back in England, waiting for me.

Those would stop.

I fingered my letter to her in my hand.

Disconnect.

End it.

It was better this way.

She deserved better.

I was different.

"Masen! Edward A!"

That pain in my chest fought its bonds I had tightened and I moved towards the outstretched hand, holding several letters. I was struck off guard by the stack.

Always too many.

"Lucky man, Masen," the CO said and grinned as he handed me letters.

I nodded and took them, pausing over the two letters I intended to mail off. One to Bella, one to Crowley's girl.

"You got mail to go out?"

Bella always sent too many letters.

I was sending one.

The last one.

"Just this one, sir," I said and handed him one and pocketing the other.

Just the one letter. I had promised. The other...

I understood Crowley then. It was too hard. even as resolved as I had been.

I'd mail it. After.

He took the one letter from me and was calling the next man, leaving me to the bundle I my hands. Whitlock mentioned something about beer but I ignored him, heading out into the sun light, my heart beating hard like it did when I was preparing to rush out of my foxhole.

Why did she have to write so many?

It made it all the harder.

I slipped into the barn by our lodgings, wanting a quiet place to sit and read. I promised myself I would only read them once, then get rid of them.

She deserved better.

I didn't want her to get a letter from Whitlock or McCarty explaining I had died with her on my thoughts. I wasn't Crowley.

Gun tucked against the wall I eased myself down into the hay of a stall and looked through the envelopes. I found the latest ones, and swallowed hard at the date.

June 5th

She had sent a number right at that time.

What would she say?

I opened one and read it greedily.

It was warming up in New York.

She was worried about me.

She had danced with a sailor.

My heart tightened. And then relaxed some at her awkward description of hurting him.

She was dancing with other men. It hurt.

I had no right.

I gritted my teeth and read on, trying without success to harden my heart.

And then there it was.

Just one word.

But that one word tore down every wall I had put up.

Disconnect… connected.

Numb, sensitized.

She reminded me in just that one word.

_Yours_.

My throat tightened and I felt that tighteness grip me harder.

No armor to protect me.

She pierced my heart with that word.

Yours.

I pushed it aside, thinking it was just a word.

I couldn't hope.

I wouldn't hope. For her sake.

But she knew how to tear it all to pieces.

Because the next letter I opened had what I most hoped for and dreaded.

It fell out onto my lap as I unfolded the letter.

Fallen face up.

Crisp.

Clean.

Innocent.

Smiling up at me.

A face so beautiful. A smile that felt like it was meant for me.

Eyes that sparkled in the sun.

Bella.

She was much more than beautiful.

She had told me in her letter. In her offering.

One word.

One picture.

And the disconnect was gone.

Bella had reminded me.

So easily, she cleared my head.

I pulled out the letter I had for her, looking at her smiling face and then the letter.

Her eyes.

The letter.

Her lips.

My disconnect in my words.

Her smile.

And ripped the letter up.

I was connected again.

I knew what I wanted.

My heart beat faster, looking at the girl who made me whole.

Who helped guide me where I wanted.

I curled up with her picture, the sunlight catching it just right.

I don't know how long I sat there. Had no idea I had been driven to tears until the hay stuck to my cheek.

All the emotions I had shoved to the dark corner of my head came tumbling out in a torrent.

All my fears, all my wishes, all my desires.

All I wanted.

Laid bare by her words and her strength.

And her face.

I wanted to make her smile.

I wanted to feel again.

I wanted to go home.

I wanted Bella.

~~oo~~

* * *

**AN: So no history lesson here- just extra Edward. But if you are interested- Carentan in France was a major city that Airborne troops fought to claim so that Allied forces could move further inland. It was a bloody battle. **

**Edward's disconnect and the time jump helps to illustrate (i hope) how many soldiers dealt with the fighting they saw. Shutting off human emotion, pushing away from the things they desired. That way when death came, there was no regrets. Having someone die in your arms can either make you want to run and live, or disconnect and not be afraid if you go. But Edward didn't want Bella to suffer. (mini New Moon here)**

**Leave it to her to pull him back in. **

**More soon. **

**We will see what he said in his letters Pre- D-Day coming up. **

**Love to all! Thanks so much for waiting! **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	22. Chapter 22

**Hello all! I had this great intro written and my wifi ate it... grumble... so I'll just say I am glad you all liked the EPOVs! They made for a nice device to illustrate time change too for Bella- We can come back to Bella some time later... (I don't think we want to read the long month Bella had to endure without hearing from Edward, right?)**

**A note in regards to last chapter- Edward had 2 letters... He only sent one... the one to Lauren,, NOT the one to Bella- that one he tore up... Just to be clear. some of you were confused. **

**So lets see what is going on back home**

* * *

_~~oo~~_

_June 15__th_

_Dear Edward,_

_I am sorry I haven't written in a few days. _

_Well, several days. _

_I just couldn't. Not after that day. Not after the news we heard. I know you couldn't tell us. I know it had to be impossible to be able to share anything. And I understand. I am still here. _

_Every day we listen to the radio and I feel I am drifting farther and farther from you. _

_Rose and Alice feel the same way. We have no way of knowing. _

_I won't say it. _

_So I will continue to write, because it's what I can do. _

_I refuse to think bad thoughts. Instead I will think about when you will be coming home. _

_I know I'll hear from you soon. _

_I know it. _

_I can feel it in my bones. So I'll write and wait for you to write back. _

_Always yours, _

_Bella. _

~~oo~~

Contrary to what I would write to Edward, my bones were numb.

I was numb.

Every day, for over a week, we listened to the radio, at the hospital, and at home. Reports continued to come in. Battles won, soldiers lost.

Too many lost.

Thousands.

We all heard about the night drops the paratroopers made, how they had missed their marks, lost many, yet still took their objectives with bravery and strength. Every night, I wondered if Edward and his friends were safe. The only thing to do that seemed to help keep me sane was work. I was so grateful for my work at the hospital because it kept my mind off the darker worries in my head.

But late at night, when it was quiet and my mind wandered….

I'd toss and turn and dream of dark places and woke in fear. Fear gave way to anxiety, which gave way to fatigue, which gave way to finally a sort of numbness.

I worked with a plastered smile on my face.

I nodded and spoke as I needed to.

But on the inside I was embracing the numbness. It was all I had when the nightmares came and the empty mailbox greeted me with its cold gaping maw.

Rose and Alice held the same quiet guard around their hearts. A structured smile in the public, chin high and shoulders back. But in our little room, at our little table, we let our guard down, whispered to one another, and let out the fears we shared.

Always whispered and never written to our boys.

They didn't need to know we feared the worst. They didn't need to know we were losing hope with each day that passed or each list of the dead in the papers.

They needed to know and to understand that we were here, and that we would hold out hope. No matter what we heard. We kept a vigil, and we tried as hard as we might to keep up appearance of staying strong.

But inside, I was numb.

Every day that passed, the numbness grew.

July 6th

I rushed up the stairs, the thick brown envelope clutched tightly to my breast.

I hoped Rose and Alice weren't in the room, I wasn't sure I could stand their excitement.

Their trepidation.

Their worry.

Their tears.

Over a month we had wondered. Over a month we had not heard a thing. We had no idea if they were safe. These letters were here too soon I knew, and I could already feel the tears forming in my eyes when I had seen the postmark on the envelope in my hands.

_June 6__th__, 1944_

What if this was the last one I ever got?

What if he were….

I shoved the thought out of my head. His name hadn't been on the lists I had seen. But I had no reference to look, merely his state he had come from, and still it was too many to look through.

All those dead.

And many names of the 502 Parachute Infantry Regiment that we had deciphered had marks of missing in action. He could be missing and no one knew.

It was a mess there after those first few days.

His job had been secret, that's why he couldn't tell us. The invasion had depended greatly on the paratroopers. And he had left that out, on purpose I suppose so I wouldn't worry when we got the news. All his remarks about remaining distant and unattached made sense now.

He didn't expect to live after his jump.

The newsreels today had shown us just what had happened. I had sat there watching in fear of the first grainy film we had seen of all those little dots in the air. All those parachutes.

"I saw you today," I whispered as I came to the door to my room, looking down at the letter. "You said I might see you and I did."

What if this was the last letter?

What if all I would ever know of him was one of a thousand parachutes floating down on France in a newsreel?

Oh Edward.

~~oo~~

_June 3__rd_

_Dear Bella,_

_I don't know when I will get the chance to write again. I seem to say that in every letter, but this one, I am sure I mean it. I can't say why, but I know it will be some time before I can even hope to receive your lovely letters. And to send my own, I have no idea. _

_I hold your letters still close to me. By my heart, where a sizable force of paper lies to protect it should I become the target of a sniper or German out to kill his enemy. You have armoured me with your words and your kindness. _

_I am taking it with me. _

_Some of the men bring a Bible, or a book or some sort. I am taking your letters, because they offer me more hope and happiness than any piece of religion or fiction could ever. _

_I have had so many things I have wanted to ask you and I let them slip away, all in favor of trying to apologize for my poor behavior in my own words. I let time slip away, and now here we are, on the eve of something bigger than both of us. _

_So I hope this letter will find you and that you can write me back and answer me these things. It sounds so trivial and meaningless now. But it distracts me to write these things, and maybe on the off chance that I get your letter when you answer, I will know more about you. _

_When is your birthday?How old are you?_

_You worked in a library, is that what you wanted to do with your life?_

_Describe to me what your laugh sounds like. I want to know. _

_Tell me about your home town. Besides the rain. _

_Tell me your best day. Your worst?_

_What do you dream about?_

_Your favorite color. Food. Book. Song. Film. _

_So many questions. I feel like the hourglass is almost empty. _

_I want just a little more time with you. Promise me you'll write back. Even if I don't. I am selfish and look forward to my name being called at mail call._

_~~00~~_

_June 4__th_

_Dearest Bella,_

_We leave soon. I can' say when. To where I can't say but for the first time since I have been here, I'm scared. _

_No one will admit it out loud, but you can see it in the officers' faces, you can see it in everyone's demeanor. _

_There is no coming back from this. _

_A miracle if we do. _

_And I never believed in miracles until I received your letter. Now, I pray for one. _

_You had made a comment about those pilots in Pearl Harbor. What if they had no choice? What if they were ordered to their death, all for the good of the freedom of their family and loved ones? It is all I have thought about these last few days. Who it is I am really fighting for. _

_We have been sequestered upon learning about what we will do. I doubt you will even get this letter. They won't let us mail it until we are gone. _

_Gone how?_

_Will they wait until we are dead?_

_Or simply away whether we succeed or not._

_I am terrified, Bella. _

_Bella. Your name means beautiful and I know it is so. I don't even have a picture of you. Why was I so ignorant to never ask for a picture of you? I'll never see your face. Never know whether you lied about being ordinary, because I know you are not. You are extraordinary to me, Bella. And I'll never put a face to your beautiful name. _

_I don't know why I never asked. Stupidity. I am a stupid stupid man. Blinded by pride and honor and duty. A lot of good they will do me in the grave. _

_All I have are your words. _

_All I have is a hope to make it through. _

_Pray for me. Pray that I get out alive. _

_All we have now are prayers and an absurd amount of luck. _

_And I never believed in luck. _

_I've done so little in my life. People have regrets for what they have done. I regret not doing things. _

_ I regret not travelling when I had the chance. I had never been on a plane before I enlisted, now it seems to be my life. The only places I have seen have been with the Army. _

_I have never killed a man. I know that sounds insane, coming from a soldier that has been in the Army during wartime for over two years, but I have never killed a man. I expect I will soon enough. I am sick over this. It is not who I am. _

_Will it change me forever?_

_I have never loved anyone outside of my family. And now that they are gone I feel utterly alone. I want to find love. I want to settle down. I want to have a life my father had with my mother. I was spoilt with what I had and I threw it away. _

_I have never felt that spark that one feels when they meet their true love. I will go to my grave without knowing what it is like to be with a woman. To feel her and know that she loves me. _

_Bella, I know I will never see you. Never meet you. Never see your smile or your heart. _

_I will never get that dance with you. _

_Never touch your cheek. _

_Never kiss you. _

_I regret that most of all. _

_I would have liked to have kissed you._

_~~00~~_

_June 5__th_

_Dear Bella,_

_Just a quick note before I hand this off in the hopes that they actually do as they promise and mail this after we are gone. _

_I have to confess to you that I lied to you. When I said that I didn't want to have a girl waiting for me. _

_I lied. _

_I resolved last night, when I should have been sleeping, that I knew how to get through this. I can survive this if I know there is something to come back home to. _

_I want it to be you. _

_I want you to wait for me. Because I do have feelings for you. I have since I first read your words. You touched me and I was afraid I'd let you down. I still may. Some Kraut may get me tomorrow, but I want you to know before that happens, how I feel. I want you to know that I am bound and determined to make it through. _

_I want a future with you, Bella. _

_I want more than anything to be able to do what I have to do to end this war so that you won't have to go to that hospital and read Hemingway to complete strangers. I know you don't like him. I can tell by your letters. I won't make you read Hemingway to me, Bella. I loathe him. _

_Read Shakespeare to me. Or Keats. Anything your heart's desire. _

_But I want you to read to me and not to them. _

_I want you for my own. Promise me you'll wait. _

_I will survive this. Because I take with me your letters, my talisman that says you care about me. I will make it through. _

_Forever, _

_Edward_

* * *

**AN: I think I mentioned that the Paratroopers were sequestered a few days before their drop. Behind barbed wire fences and away from civilization, they were told what it was they would do- told to memorize the terrain, given money for France, given their codes and duties. And then were made to wait.**

**They had a lot of time to think about what they were about to undertake.**

**A lot of time to double check their packs, play cards to distract them from the weight of importance, and to write.**

**Imagine writing what could be your last letter to your loved one.**

**When Airborne were relieved of duty at the end of June and sent back to England for recooperation and recruitment, they had lost as much as 43% of their original men. July and August of that year, they brought on fresh recruits- men who had never jumped into combat, men who were new to the fight. It meant that those young men who had jumped on DDay and survived the month were now the hardened veterans. Some of them not even 20.**

**Imagine that. Being the seasoned solider compared to the other 40% coming on in August.**

**Scary.**

**More soon. Tech week this week, so I may be updating every 3 or 4 days rather than every 2.**

**Have a great rest of the day!**

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	23. Chapter 23

**Happy Tuesday my dears! I should be working... but here I am... lol**

**Had to step away from the drama of real life to the drama of wartime. somewhere in there its better, believe me.**

**So many of you were so touched by Edward's letters. :)**

**Let's see how Bella deals with them.**

* * *

~~oo~~

"Bella?"

I heard Rose call out my name, but I couldn't find the energy to lift my head from my pillow.

I was completely and utterly spent.

I hadn't even turned on the light when the sun had gone down.

"Oh my goodness! Bella! Are you okay?"

Alice's voice cut through the pain I was feeling, enough for me to wipe at my nose finally.

"Bella, what's happened?"

I swallowed and realized I had nothing left to even swallow. I'd cried it all out.

"You got a letter? What did it say? Bella, why are you crying?"

I shook my head and tried to breathe.

It was too hard. It came in bursts.

I pushed the letters at them and curled back up into a ball on my bed, burying my head into my pillow so I wouldn't have to see their faces.

"Oh, Bella."

I heard the papers shuffling around, heard Alice hiccup, just as I had at letter number three.

"This is a beautiful letter," Alice whimpered and I felt her hand on my back, rubbing circles. "Why are you so sad?"

"Because," I croaked out, "I don't know…"

My throat was raw. How long had I been crying? Did I care?

"What? If he means it?" Alice asked softly. "Oh, Bella he most definitely means it. He's as taken with you as you are of him."

I shook my head and tried to relax my breathing enough to speak in one full sentence.

"No, Alice," I said and stuttered. "I don't... I don't know if he's still alive! What if he said this and now he's dead?"

Both Rose and Alice offered me the saddest of looks.

I didn't need to remind them of the fear we had. We had tried to keep one another's spirits up every day of the past month. It was easier to do before these letters; it had all been so unknown.

Now...

Oh Edward.

I felt my body fight to let out my pathetic sobbing once more and I moved to bury my head again. I didn't want to face the world anymore. Not like this.

Rose leaned in and cradled my head to her lap as she sat down, holding me tight.

"Bella, we have to have hope," she said softly. "All those times when I doubted, and worried over Royce, you were there to give me hope. Even when he was gone and we found out what a two-timing bastard he was, you still were there to give me hope. You were always there and strong for both of us. Where's that Bella now?"

I hiccupped and let out a weak whimper.

"Why can't I be the inconsolable one this time?" I said through my tears.

I was tired of being the cheer leader to so many.

Why couldn't I simply sit here in the dark and cry my eyes out over Edward?

They didn't understand, not really. Edward had rooted himself firmly into my heart. And his words were the most romantic and inspiring ever.

Except they were tainted by the thought that they might be his last.

I'd spent the last hour beating myself up for doubting him, and then crying when I realized that the feelings I had for him could very well crush me if he was gone.

"You can cry all you want," Alice said and patted me on the shoulder gently. "We all can use a good cry. But when it's time to hold our chin up and show our love and support for these wonderful men, we have to."

"I know," I mumbled and wiped my nose with the handkerchief Rose handed me. "It's just hard to do when we've had no news of them in over a month."

"We can cry here in our beds, Bella," she said, laying down beside me in the small bed and hugged me tighter. "But we have to have hope. He's going to be all right. They all are. We have to pray and have faith that we're sending them what they need to stay safe."

We were quiet in our thoughts for a moment, no doubt all of us were thinking of our men over there.

"I'm sorry there weren't letters from Jasper or Emmett," I said, embarrassed at my reaction when they had nothing.

Rose chuckled and shrugged her shoulders.

"Any day now," she said. "Besides, I'm sure it took Emmett forever to write something. He's sweet, but you can tell he's not a writer like your Edward."

Alice cuddled beside me and handed me back my letter from Edward.

"We'll get some, I know it," she whispered in my ear and hugged me tight. "For now we'll have to pine away at the incredible love letters you get."

I fingered the letter in my hand, wondering. I traced his last few words with my fingertip.

_Forever, Edward. _

"Do you think it is?" I asked. "A love letter, really? It's not just the fear of dying that made him say that?"

Rose and Alice both rolled their eyes at me, laughing.

"He is so taken with you, Bella!" Rose exclaimed. "No one says things like wishing he could touch your cheek and kiss you and not mean it!"

"He is head over heels, Bella, and once he sees your picture you sent, he won't want to wait until this war is over to be with you," Alice said.

"He's a good man," Rose said simply, smiling that endearing smile she reserved only for her most heartfelt sentiments.

"I know he is," I whispered and opened up the letter to read once more.

It was quiet again as we all read it.

"I can't imagine what they must have had to go through," I whispered, reading through the fear that was clear throughout Edward's letters. He had to have been so afraid, even if he tried to put on a brave face. "Such a dangerous job."

"I thought Royce had a tough job," Rose replied. "But what they did, that takes some courage. Jumping from a plane in the dead of night? With the enemy shooting at them? That takes so much courage. "

"I'm afraid of heights," Alice said and Rose and I both laughed.

"What?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. She settled in a little closer and pushed my hair away from my face, reading my letter once more.

"What do you think he looks like?" Alice whispered near my ear.

I closed my eyes and smiled, trying to imagine Edward in my head.

"He has kind eyes," I breathed. "A little contemplative perhaps."

"Tall," Rose added, smiling when I opened my eyes to her. "And strong. Those paratroopers have to train hard to do what they do."

We were silent again as we thought about the newsreel we had seen at the matinee earlier. I knew they were thinking about their guys.

"I bet he's reading your letters right now, and wondering what you look like too," Alice added.

"He might have received your picture by now," Rose added. "And if he did, I bet he'll be writing more romantic letters soon enough."

I blushed at the idea that he could write anything more incredible than he already had.

Kisses and dances and wanting to pursue something with me.

Even at the notion that he had said it because he thought he would die, as sad as that seemed, it still offered a little hope. He had admitted to feelings I knew I already had.

So where did we go from here?

I smiled and slid out of my friends' arms, their smiles widening when I pulled out the stationery.

"That's the Bella I know," Rose said and winked at me. "Hope and faith. Hope and faith."

They prepared for bed while I wrote, and with each word, I could feel the strength and determination build.

Edward was not among the thousands dead from this invasion.

He was going to fight.

He had direction, just as I did now.

Because he had me.

And I had him.

I would most definitely wait for Corporal Edward A. Masen.

Forever.

* * *

**AN: Many of you have asked about how news was delivered from the front. The War office deployed official statements of military movements, released by official press statements. When D-Day occured, Allied News agencies were hesitant to release the information they had come across (A German broadcast about an invasion force striking the inlands areas around Normandy- the paratroopers) Their hesitance was due to speculation and fear of offering the enemy information they might get from listening to our own radio shows. Allied news agencies had been told something big was about to happen, and to wait for official word from the War office. **

**As more information came rolling into England, unofficial accounts were discussed. An official announcement was made hours into the invasion, when it appeared we were making a successful impact. For the entire day, news agencies spoke to leaders, military analysts and news correspondents on the front. **

**Yes there were actual war correspondents on the front lines with our men (one US news man recalls being on the beach with first landings and being scared to death as he watched soldiers die all around him. He his behind a barrier until well into the morning.) A British corespondent rode in the plane with some of the Airborne men, watched them jump and felt the antiaircraft bullets hitting the plane before they made their way back. Once on the ground, he offered his insight into the invasion. **

**It was nothing like what we experience today (or even as far back as the Vietnam war when the fighting was in our living room for the first time) Information was released as it was approved- there was no TMZ or Perez or even CNN or FOX news. But that day, everyone stayed at their radio to listen to the events that occured. It was very much like 9/11- in that people couldn't manage to do much more than listen, wonder and pray. **

**A lot has changed since then. We have become desensitized to it all with it at our fingertips with a simple Google search or switch of the station on our TVs. Back then, we learned what they shared, and we waited. **

**Let the waiting begin. **

**More soon. Probably Friday or Saturday. and there will be some time jumping now that we're aware of Edward and his job, and his affection for his girl. **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	24. Chapter 24

**Hello All! Been a busy week- so history lesson is a little different...**

**I will update again tomorrow, cuz I know you'll ask for it anyway. ;)**

* * *

~~oo~~

**July 20th**

"Jacob, I'm scheduled off in a few minutes, will you please cooperate."

Jacob was sweet most days, but today was one of his more somber moods and it was wearing on me.

Everything wore on me. Not sleeping often left me testy.

"Maybe I don't want you to leave," he grumbled and shifted in his bed.

I put the razor down on his nightstand and stood up.

"We've had this discussion before Jacob, I am not one for breaking the rules of the hospital and I am not interested. I have someone," I started and his eyes narrowed.

"Writing letters to someone isn't having a relationship, Bella," he shot back. "It's because of what I am isn't it?"

I swallowed down the guilt and tried to calm my worn nerves.

Jacob was handsome. Rugged and cheerful most of the time, and in truth he was my favorite in the ward. He had also been here the longest. He should have been gone, but he wasn't handling physical therapy well. The nerve damage in his spine hindered that. His stubborn attitude even more so.

He would probably be wheelchair bound the rest of his long life.

How did a man live with that? At his age? He was maybe twenty.

He should have a life to look forward to, instead, he seemed aged well beyond his years and on the brink of giving it up.

"Jacob," I started, not knowing how to break it to him.

It wasn't his legs that kept me from loving him the way he wanted.

"It's all right, go home," he murmured, defeated.

"Jacob, it's not that," I managed and frowned when I still couldn't come up with the words to lessen the crushing blow.

"Your heart is over there, I get it," he replied.

"You're my friend, Jacob, you always will be," I said and sat back down, knowing I wouldn't leave for sometime now.

Depression was the biggest enemy of the men in my wards.

Every single man I worked with, even the ones that couldn't remember how they were injured, had some manner of depression. Jacob's was the worst sometimes. Maybe because I did care about him so much.

He made me laugh when I needed cheering up.

For all his flirting, he was the most honest and genuine man there.

He just needed to find a woman who would look past his injuries and love the man I knew was special.

It just wasn't me.

"What makes him so endearing to you?" he asked finally.

I shrugged and refused to look up into his eyes. Truth was I had no idea. I had no idea what Corporal Edward Masen looked like.

Or what his true personality was.

I only knew him by his written word.

It sounded ludicrous that I would fall for someone simply by a few letters.

But I had.

I had fallen for him. Made a promise.

After his last set of letters to me, dated well over a month ago, I had firmly dedicated myself to him. Letter after letter. I gave him everything he needed. Everything he asked for in his letters.

I gave myself.

Even if I were writing to a dead man, I had decided he was the man I chose.

I'd love no other.

I rubbed at my tired eyes and leaned back in the chair, wishing I could just go home and sleep until the war was over.

When would it be over?

And would Edward come home? Would he come home?

Where was home for him when he did return?

What would he do?

Would he even search me out?

What if…

"He's a lucky man," Jacob said, breaking me out of my round of wondering.

I shrugged again and offered him a weak smile.

"I hope so. You just have to have faith. I know there's a girl out there for you, Jacob," I whispered and squeezed his arm. He had put on a lot more weight in muscle from his physical therapy. His arm was solid muscle now.

"Maybe," he replied and looked around the darkened room. "It's late. You should probably head home before it gets too late. You don't walk home alone do you?"

"I'm just a few blocks away, I'll be fine," I said reassuringly.

"It's not safe on the streets, Bella," he said and shifted in his bed, as if he made to get out of it and escort me home personally.

He let out a grunt when he seemed to remember himself.

"Jacob, I'm fine. My friend Alice ends her shift in a little bit. I'll walk with her," I said and smiled in relief when his body relaxed.

"Women are so independent now," he murmured, toying with the edge of his sheet that lay over his useless legs.

"You don't mind it," I teased and he smirked.

"You bossing me around is nice," he said and rolled his eyes, embarrassed.

I stood and let out a weary breath.

"You're incorrigible, Private Black."

"You don't mind it," he said, grinning.

I couldn't set him straight. He'd never listen anyway. And he was smiling, so I simply patted him on the head and stepped away with the shaving supplies.

"Just for that, I'm leaving you half shaven. Let Ness deal with you in the morning," I said.

He groaned and stuck out his bottom lip.

"She's so mean."

"Nessie?" I asked, shocked. She was quiet and cute, new to the wards. But I had never seen her be mean to the soldiers. That would have to stop if she were. I was protective of my boys.

"She makes me work harder at PT and goads me," he grumbled.

"Well, maybe that's what you need," I said, chuckling. "You can be difficult. She just wants you to get better."

He shrugged and settled down into his bed, eyeing me as I cleaned up.

"What happens if this soldier you like comes back missing things? What then?"

I swallowed and shook my head.

"I'd still love him, Jacob. No matter what, I'd love him with all my heart," I whispered.

I of course had thought about that a lot, working with these men.

"You say that now," he mumbled and closed his eyes. "A lot changes when reality sets in."

"I have faith," I replied softly. "Goodnight Jacob."

"Night Bella."

I left the hospital with Alice, lost in my thoughts. She seemed just as distant as we walked in the light of the street lights.

While Alice and Rose had received letters from their men shortly after mine, we had received nothing since. It was wearing on all of us, regardless of trying to keep one another's spirits up.

The unknown was well and truly dragging us into a dark place.

"One of my guys died today."

I looked up from the pavement in surprise. It took me a second to realize she meant one of the soldiers in the ward.

"I'm sorry, Alice," I whispered and hugged her close.

She took a deep breath and shook her head.

"So many of them are from that day, I don't know if I can bear to lose another one, Bella."

Our hospital was beginning to receive the injured being returned to the States from D-Day. The last week alone, we had over-filled our wards, pulling out cots for the men who could manage them, and releasing less critical men to the world. Against Dr. Cullen's wishes, the government was insisting we release some that should remain.

Jacob was on the list. But so far he had managed to remain. Overlooked at least for the next day or so.

Beds were needed for the ones coming in, injuries more heinous than I had ever seen. My work load had increased; we had hired Ness to help out, along with half a dozen other young women whose sole purpose was to aid in morale and assist in the daily chores that nurses couldn't get to.

So many men.

None of which were Edward.

Or Emmett.

Or Jasper.

We had looked. We checked every day. Once a week, we put in a request in the war office for their names. So far nothing.

But the MIA and unknown totals were rising.

And we had no idea where they were. In the thick of it, based on some of the reports.

But not here.

Jacob's question played in my head again.

"Alice?" I asked. "What would you do if Jasper came back injured like the men we see? What if he couldn't deal with it all?"

She looked ahead, chin up.

"I don't know," she confessed. "I don't have the same connection with him that you do with Edward. I hardly know him, yet I feel something for him. I'd like to say I would be there for him. But I see these men suffer every day. It's hard to deal with. I'd try. I;d most certainly try."

I nodded in understanding, knowing it was a difficult subject. We all wanted our men home, whole and sound.

But I knew, with everything the men had discussed when they didn't think I could hear.

War left some scars that wouldn't heal.

I remembered the whimpering soldier my first week.

Scars ran deep.

I hoped Edward came back whole.

I shook my head, annoyed.

No, I just hoped Edward came back.

I'd manage the rest.

I would.

* * *

**AN: Stiff upper lip and all that, Bella. And don't worry about Jacob so much. He'll find that girl (cough-Nessie- cough). Sometimes love has to smack you upside the head and make itself known. I'm sure Ness will whip him into understanding. **

**Men returned to the States with injuries usually were discharged from their positions in the service- their injuries enough to keep them from active duty. Some might get transferred stateside for support, but many- most of whom Bella and Alice and Rose see are the ones forever changed from the war. Not that even the ones that appeared whole were not, but society has a funny way of judging a man who is missing part of himself. It was a hard road for many who returned. **

**Every man was expected to stay strong. You came home, you continued on. There wasn't a place for them to talk. Unless it was with their buddies. So many of you have relayed your stories of your fathers, uncles, grandfathers and how they came home and didn't talk about the war. Or if they did, it was to a trusted source (not always their wives). It's hard to describe what happened there. My grandfather never spoke of it. His memories died with him. I cherish the memories of him on his good days, and wonder with a pained heart when he had those bad days if he was remembering. He was a proud man, he made a lot of mistakes, but my grandma loved him even still, and he was in inspiration to me. **

**I want to thank all of those that have shared their memories and stories. This is how history continues. Not just by textbooks and video coverage, but by the human interaction and telling of personal stories. **

**Sorry this took a little diversion from strictly historical context- it's been a long week. I just wanted to be sure to let you all know that your support for this story and your own personal investments mean so much to me. **

**More soon- something tomorrow for sure. You all were chomping at the bit for some news from Edward I know. ;)**

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	25. Chapter 25

**Happy Sunday folks!**

**So excited to bring you this chapter, it had to come early! YAY!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_~~oo~~_

**July 30th**

Alice was laughing behind me as we rushed up the steps, hearts pounding in joy and excitement for what we held in our hands.

"We should wait for Rose," I wheezed as we neared the bedroom door.

Of course, I knew we wouldn't.

Nothing would keep me from ripping open the letter in my hands as soon as I closed our bedroom door.

"I'm not waiting!" Alice chided and giggled when she heard the paper tear in my hand.

Two months.

Nearly two months we had waited.

All the fear and anxiety that had eaten away at me was instantly washed away with this thick envelope in my hand.

"Bella! Look!"

I jumped at Alice's high-pitched yell, and felt her leap on my bed as I pulled my eyes away from the envelope.

"A picture Bella!" she exclaimed and leaned in close to show me the picture.

Three men, in full uniform. What looked like their battle gear and everything. So much baggage for one man, it must have been difficult to walk, let alone fight with so many bags and weapons!

But the three of them stood there in black and white.

They looked dirty and the picture was a little out of focus.

But there they were.

I squinted at the picture trying to make out the faces a little better. They had dirt or something black marking their faces.

"Which one is which?" I asked, Alice turning the picture around to read the names.

"Jasper is on the left, Edward's in the middle," she said, grinning as she turned it back around to look at the men a little more closely.

"I wonder when it was taken," I whispered and looked hard at the man in the middle, trying to get a better look at him through the dirt and fuzzy black and white image.

He was tall, almost as tall as the man on the right, which had to be Emmett. Edward looked broader than Jasper, but Emmett seemed to be the biggest of all of them.

All of them were smiling, but Edward's seemed a little more reserved.

Shy somehow.

Even out of focus, he seemed a little aloof, and it made me think of his letters those last few days before he jumped. He had been scared, doubting himself and then determined. Which day had this been on?

I squinted again, trying to make out his eyes. His jaw. His face in general behind the blackened markings. His eyes looked to be light-colored, and wise beyond their years, while his face seemed strong and well shaped. It was difficult to decipher, but what I could see was quite handsome.

"Jasper says this was taken hours before their jump," she said, her voice eager as she looked through the long letter she had in her other hand.

I took one last look at the man in the picture and pulled out my own letter, a little dismayed that a picture didn't fall out of my own letter.

Perhaps he knew that Jasper had sent one.

Even so, I had hoped for one of my own.

I let out a soft sigh. I should have been happy for the thick letter. Pictures were hard for them to come by, I was sure.

"We'll share it, Bella," Alice said and squeezed my shoulder before reading some of her letter aloud. "Jasper says it was difficult to get a picture. But promises more."

Then she giggled.

"He also says he knows that Edward would never send one, that he's too shy to do so. Jasper felt it was imperative after you sent Edward yours," she said, eyes shining. "He got your picture, Bella! Jasper says Edward has been all smiles the last few days since getting it! How sweet!"

I blushed and returned to my letter, my heart swelling a little at the idea that Edward was shy, and that my picture had found him. And now I had a very long letter to read.

~~oo~~

**_June 30th_**

_My dearest Bella,_

_Dearest because you have drawn me back into the light of life, and managed with your heart and your words to keep me alive. Dearest because I have something to look forward to coming home to, and a reason for being here. You are the dearest to me because I can hope for something. I hope for you. _

_I can't even begin to put into words how much your letters, and now your picture have made me feel. I know I left you with some very melodramatic letters before I left, and I am sorry if they worried you. Right now I could walk into Hitler's headquarters and end this war, you have given me that much purpose. _

_Bella, you are my guardian angel. My beautiful angel that seems to offer me strength when I need it most. I haven't slept in days it seems, and arriving back on base today, after doing nothing but holding your letters and your picture close, I feel a sense of ease that I haven't had in a long while. _

_We got back to base this morning, and there to greet me was a stack of your letters. _

_But your picture, Bella. _

_They delivered some of our mail a few days ago in the field, as if some divine spirit knew we needed it. _

_I needed that picture. I needed your words. You pulled me from the brink, just as an angel would. _

_Never ordinary, never just Bella. But dearest and most cherished. _

_You are my beautiful angel. _

_I won't pretend anymore what you mean to me. Will not push it aside any longer to try and protect you or my heart. You offer yourself so selflessly, so I will as well. _

_I am yours Bella, forever or when you choose to deny me. Although I pray you never will. You are the light that guides me and I pledge to be everything you need, if you'll have me. I've read every one of your letters several times, and I hope that what I am reading is that your feelings are the same. _

_I am thick when it comes to romance, so I hope you will be patient with me. Thank goodness you have a brave heart, and that Jasper is a pestering fool who insisted on meddling to make me see the light. I refuse to show him this one, it is between you and me, but no doubt he will figure it all out with the smile I cannot seem to erase from my face. _

_You always brighten my mood and I hope I do the same for you. _

_I'll make mistakes. I'm not very good at my feelings, and this war doesn't help. But I am driven now. I have a month or so here before I go again to wherever they send us. Maybe the war will be over by then. _

_I hope so. Because I cannot wait to come home. _

_I'd like that dance. _

_All I can think about now is your beautiful smile, and how much I look forward to seeing it in person. _

_I want to make you smile and laugh. _

_I want to see your eyes glimmer as they do in this photograph, because you look as if you are so very happy in this picture. I have memorized every curve, every shadow and it has taken a hold of me in the best of ways. _

_You had my heart with your words long before you sent a picture, but now I want so much more. Your picture stays close to me always, and is a reminder of all that is good and beautiful in this world. _

_You are so very beautiful to me, Bella, and I am yours. _

_We just have to get past this war. _

_We saw a lot this last month, but everything that we do is one step closer to ending this war. I don't know what they show you in the newsreels, but we got through relatively unscathed. Emmett and Jasper and I are all right. A lot of men lost their lives that first day, and more since. We were isolated for a while, and that was what really makes it so hard. Not knowing what is happening elsewhere. We only know what we are told. And many times it is nothing, just in case we are caught._

_I do not like how long it will be in between letters while I am out in the field. I am sure that the wait for you is maddening, with not knowing. It must be so much easier for me, knowing that you are safe and at home, but you must worry with that unknown. I am so sorry for that. _

_It distresses me that you look for my name on those lists. I wish I could promise I will never be on that list. I asked to come here. I felt it was my duty, and with that duty comes that risk of never returning. I have a purpose now, more than ever. I will do what I have to- if only to know that you are safe and reading to those soldiers back home. I think you are brave and amazing for doing that. _

_But please don't look for my name. I don't want you to worry over me. It is too much for me to know that you will in any case. I have never had someone care for me such as that, except perhaps my parents. I know I ask a lot of you to do this for me. As I said, you must have it so much worse not knowing. Just know that I promise to get home to you to the best of my ability. _

_I will try my best to write again while I am on assignment, but the mail runs a lot slower now with our forces spread out. If it takes a while for me to write, please don't worry. Your kindness keeps me safe. _

_Thank you for your letters. You and your friends have made this unit's morale certainly soar in the face of this mindless situation. You have given me so much to look forward to, I intend to see this to the end and come home. _

_You are my beautiful angel who keeps me in the light. _

_Yours forever,_

_Edward_

_~~oo~~_

I sighed and held the letter close to my heart, an incredible weight lifted from my chest at reading his letter. I didn't care that my tears were running down the sides of my face. I didn't care that Alice might be concerned.

Edward was alive. And he had called me beautiful.

I'd still worry over him, he was silly to think otherwise.

But he cared as I did and that took over my heart and made it pound with excitement and something more.

"I think I'm in love," Alice moaned dreamily from her bed. Glancing over at her, she looked much as I must- letter clutched to her heart, happy tears running down her face, and the most ridiculous smile on her face.

I hummed in contentment, knowing already what she had just discovered.

I had felt it for sometime, but was afraid to say it out loud this last month.

Was afraid that his earlier declaration might just be the nerves talking. But deep down I had known, I just needed to know he was all right before I admitted to even myself.

Now I knew for sure.

I was in love with Corporal Edward Masen.

_~~oo~~_

* * *

**_AN: Such an incredible time back then, when written word of letters moved people so much. So many instances of people falling in love through letters- some who had never met before. So romantic. Especially given the time it took to receive letters! _**

**_Of course, people fell out of love just a well. Dear John letters were very common, and many men would offer condolences to those unfortunate men who received them. Brotherhood amongst men in the units was a strong bond. Not of blood shared, but of blood and sweat spilt. _**

**_You had to trust the men of your unit, know them better than they knew themselves. Those men shared more with one another than perhaps a man shared with this wife, or his parents. Bonds in war run deep, and we still that today. You put your trust of your life in their hands, you can't step away from that. Men knew everything about one another- names of children, girls back home, what crop was being planted, and what plans were for when they got home. _**

**_On more than one occasion, when a brother in arms fell, it was up to those left alive to carry on- for some this meant going to tell the families personally the tale of their lost son or husband. Some felt it out of a sense of survivors guilt, others out of duty to their brother. So many feelings and emotions run deep through these men, the bonds of war truly never faded, even years after. _**

**_I am so in awe of the kinship of these men, so many years later. They meet every year, saddened when one does not come because he has been lost to the fight. Stories are told of their fallen brothers, and new stories are shared. I can't tell you how much I have bawled over some of the reunion photos, especially todays, when these heroes are becoming so few. They still make the trek to see their brothers, they still remember._**

**_History living and breathing in their presence. Every one of them. _**

**_I know that Edward, Emmett, and Jasper will have that kind of bond. And that kind of history. I see them in all the pictures of those men that fought. Both old and young._**

**_Hope and faith. _**

**_More soon my dears! Hope you have a wonderful day today! _**

**_MWAH!_**

**_steph_**


	26. Chapter 26

**Hello again my dears! So many of you loved Edward's letter so much! sigh... where are those men these days?!**

**Well time is going to speed away here a little- some of you have asked when are they gonna meet already?! LOL, let me just say war is hell and we'll just have to see. Edward and the boys have some important battles to get through first...**

**But unlike those blank pages in New Moon, we'll see how they get through it... **

* * *

~~oo~~

Time passes too quickly when you are living in the moment.

When life is great, it steels away from you. When life is immeasurably painful or tense, time slows down as if to make you suffer through every agonizing second.

The summer seemed just flew by.

Perhaps because I was in love and my mailbox seemed inundated with letters from my corporal.

Almost every day, one of us received a letter from the front. With the boys training once more in England, we seemed to never pine away for a letter. The dates seemed to get closer and closer to when they had sent off their letters, and once or twice it almost felt as if we were answering letters immediately, the lag in responses a little over a week instead of weeks at a time.

Since that first letter from Edward confessing his feelings, I received many more as the days and weeks followed. Just as I had written to him every day, he seemed dedicated to do the same, offering me so many personal bits of information about him I found myself smiling even on the most trying of days.

And every letter, Edward signed it the same.

_Yours forever, _

_Edward_

I fell in love with Edward Masen with every word he wrote.

Edward's family had owned a small printing business just outside of Chicago.

No brothers or sisters, he was the only one left in his family.

He had started playing piano at the age of four. He was a prodigy with dreams of playing professionally, at least before his mother and father had died. He never explained how they died, always moving onto other things about himself.

He enjoyed Chopin, but Bach was his favorite.

He read every chance he could growing up, liking the Greek classics and British poetry and literature.

Edward never owned a pet.

Edward despised the snow in winter.

He enjoyed sunrises over the Great Lakes. He liked thunderstorms, but not getting wet in the rain.

He missed the smell of his mother's roses in the yard.

Every letter he offered more of himself.

And with each one of my own, I did the same.

I didn't like the rain much, but liked reading in my picture window back home when it did rain.

I liked Chopin, but could never manage to coordinate my fingers to play well.

Washington and New York were the only places I had lived in.

I was also an only child.

Back and forth we told one another everything.

He had a scar on his knee from falling from a tree. I had a scar on my knee from tripping down the porch stairs.

He liked to swim, I liked the sand.

His eyes were green, mine were brown.

His hair- undeterminable reddish brown he had claimed.

I laughed at that and thought of the photograph we had framed on our table. There was no way to tell what his hair color was in that unfocused shot.

He told me very little about what they had seen, except that he was amazed by how fast the ground comes to meet a paratrooper in the dark of night. He explained his terror briefly, but never mentioned specifically what he had encountered.

Only that he was safe and ready to end the war.

Always that he was safe with the thought of me waiting at home.

Home.

The more we skirted around the issue of what he would do when he came home, the more I realized I would go wherever he landed.

He spoke of travelling, and I saved more money in my war bonds. I was determined to have something for when he returned. I never mentioned how I saved, but I was sure he saved as well. Paratroopers made extra money because of the danger they faced.

And he rarely spent unnecessarily.

He rarely left the base, even on leave. I had learned from Rose's letters from Emmett that they had tried to bring Edward along to London for a weekend, but he had refused, knowing that most men who did often went looking for girls. Rose was sure to let Emmett know that she enjoyed the USO dances as much as he enjoyed Piccadilly Circus.

Rose later told me that Picadilly was where the whores lingered for the servicemen, a lesson she had learned from Royce.

I was instantly relieved that Edward did stay on base.

While we had not officially made claims to one another besides offering our feelings, I didn't want to think about him with girls over there. It disturbed me that Rose played it so cool with Emmett. Alice had to explain that Rose was simply protecting her heart.

My heart was already taken.

So I hoped Edward would stay on base as long as he could.

August sped past with work and letters, Rose convincing us to go for the first weekend of September up the coast for a beach weekend. I had trouble enjoying it, knowing I was away from my post and that Edward didn't have the luxury of sunning on the beach. But it was the nights that were the most nerve-wracking.

At night, the residents of the town we stayed in enforced a blackout. No electrical lamps were allowed in case of invading forces. Those nights sitting under the stars, listening to the water and wondering if a German sub was in the water made me nervous beyond belief.

It made me feel perhaps a small inkling of what Edward must have felt some nights in those fields in France.

Not nearly as frightening as he had lived through I was sure. But still scary nonetheless.

I never asked him about what he had seen, both for his own sanity and the censor's.

I heard enough from the men coming into the hospital in a daily rush to know, this war was harsh, and wouldn't be over as soon as we had hoped. And with every tale I heard from the men in my ward, and with every letter we received, I wondered when the day would come that would tell me that Edward and the boys would be going into the fray.

I learned about it by chance, listening to the radio beside one of the men one night.

Sometimes I just wished I could avoid the news on the radio and in the papers.

I sat there beside a young army infantry man, listening to the news of paratroopers jumping in a daring mid day jump into part of the Netherlands and Germany. The soldier in the bed beside me listened in rapt attention over the numbers of men, the city taken, the complexity of the battle there, and more.

My mind simply stopped at paratroopers jumping.

My heart stalled, knowing the inevitable had come to pass.

There was something about largest deployment of Airborne, taking of bridges, suffering casualties.

I sighed and closed my eyes, knowing what was being told to me on the radio.

I wouldn't be hearing from Edward again for some time to come.

* * *

**AN: It's lovely what lovers might say in letters. What we take for granted with online dating, awkward first dates and perhaps that shy conversation the the train, they could do in letters. Letters were forever. **

**A couple things here in the history blurb:**

**Picadilly Circus was a haven for troops looking for some relief from the stress of their war. On leave, they might come for a few beers, to laugh and carry on and play darts (new to those American GI's) but it was also a place where the prostitutes could be guaranteed some good wages. Men were lonely- living like it was their last day, and many probably cheated on their girls back home to blow off some steam. Picadilly was the place to go. **

**And so we get into mid September with the end of this chapter... Paratroopers made their next big jump into the Netherlands in hopes to capture bridges into Northern Germany, allowing ground troops to get in and surround the industrial forces of the Germans. Airborne units (code named Operation Market) jumped in full force into the towns in broad daylight on Sept. 17th. Ground troops (code named Operation Garden) were to provide support to those airborne troops as soon as the bridges were secured. Operation Market Garden initially was a success, freeing some towns that had been under Nazi oppression for months. Bridges had been secured, but the failings of ground troops unable to cross some of the bridges that had been blown out ultimately forced the Allied forces to give up some of the advance that they had succeeded in. Combined troops fought for nine days before retreats were made. 101st Airborne stayed to keep what they could with ground troops, remaining well into November to hold what little ground they could. **

**It was a hope that Market Garden would speed up the advancement of Allied forces into Germany, with plans to end the war by Christmas. With Market Garden failing to give Allied forces that hold, the war would continue into the next year. **

**the 502 and other regiments of the 101st Airborne would not return to England after this. They would remain for some of the worst fighting in the history of the war in Germany. **

**but that's coming up. **

**more soon! **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	27. Chapter 27

**Hello again! Sorry it took so long to get here. Busy week at work and getting sick does that to you. Hopefully we'll get back on track here. **

**So some time jumping... I promised it would happen... Just don't look for 5 blank pages in this story. ;)**

* * *

~~oo~~

October.

I had hope. He would come home.

November.

I kept the faith. He would stay safe.

December.

Hope and faith faltered. Three months of nothing made it difficult to maintain.

Three months of newsreels. Boosting moral with talk of victories.

Three months of the stories from the men coming in from the front. Boosting my fear at the reality of real failures.

As new men continued to flood our hospital, I learned just how little we actually knew about what was going on in the war. The newsreels only told the accomplishments.

But the men told the failures.

The suffering was clear in their waking thoughts as well as their nightmares. Some never spoke at all, simply looked ahead, a vacant stare the only thing they could offer.

More injured.

More dying because they gave up.

The camaraderie I had once seen was slipping with these new men. There were fewer smiles, and more whimpers when they didn't think I could hear them late at night.

Hope and faith were lost completely those nights when I had to help restrain those young men so they could be sedated from themselves. I'd leave the wards to come home to an empty mailbox and struggle with myself to hold onto faith.

It was difficult to do, especially when I could see the same struggle in my friends. Alice, who usually glowed with excitement around the holidays was moody and cross most days. Rose pretended to be strong, but she spent far too much time in the bathroom trying to cover up her puffy red eyes.

We were all falling apart, struggling with holding on for the men we had given our hearts to.

I wasn't sure if we could handle the New Year if we didn't hear from any of them soon.

Hope and faith needed a little help.

~~oo~~

"Mother, it's not a thankless job."

I tried to remain calm with my mother judging me, but it was hard not to judge her myself when Renee Swan was the biggest hypocrite I knew.

"I'm just saying, you can be doing so much more at home than here. Those men don't want someone to read to them. They just want to pretend you care," she said as she sat on my bed.

"I do care," I said, tense beside the table as I stared her down.

Mother had come by surprise on the train earlier, after failing to get me to come home for the holidays. I knew what she intended.

Get me home and convince me not to come back to New York.

"Bella, there's a job for you at home. Your father will be back soon, we can start over again," she said, giving me that pleading look she often gave to make me feel guilty.

"I'm not coming home, Mother," I maintained. "I'm happy here. I make a difference to those men."

She pouted and adjusted herself on the bed, glancing over at the picture Alice had framed in between our beds. Mother let out a noise and reached for the picture, squinting just as I had at the fuzzy image of the men that had taken up so much of us.

"Which one is he?" she asked, her voice a little soft.

I paused in telling her. She had always told me to never fall for a man in uniform like she had.

And then her eyes looked up, and the tenderness in them surprised me.

"You love him."

I swallowed and nodded.

I knew I did. Regardless of not knowing where or how he was.

"What's his name?" she asked and patted the side of my bed beside her.

I slid in next to her and took the small picture from her hands, looking down at the men in them. Edward stood in the middle, offering what looked like a shy smile. Dirty, ready for battle, but still offering a glimmer of hope I had been needing.

"Edward," I whispered. "His name's Edward."

I felt her arm come around me and pull me closer. She kissed my on top of the head and let out a gentle sigh.

"Oh sweet girl, why couldn't you just listen to me," she whispered.

I let out a weak laugh and shook my head.

"I did," I said, laughing sadly when she looked at me in confusion.

"You're the one who wanted me to write to a lonely soldier," I clarified. "It just happened I fell in love with him."

She sighed again and looked at the picture.

"I don't want to leave you here like this. The work you do in the hospital can't be easy," she argued.

"No, it's not. But I make a difference," I replied. "I'm not leaving them so I can be comfortable at home."

She chuckled and held me close again.

"You never did give up on a mission. I'm so happy you got that trait from your father and not from me."

We sat there for some time, until I had to get ready for work. My mother asked only one more time about coming home with her. When I came back to the apartment, she was gone.

And a note was set below the picture frame.

_Dearest Bella,_

_I can't keep you from loving whom you fall for, but I want you to know that I understand. _

_Your father has always been my hero, even though we have our hardships. He has always been honorable and true to us. _

_Trust your heart, not history. _

_Love this man, and show him your loyalty. _

_I have made so many mistakes in my life with your father, but every time he goes away, I fear for him. I know how you must be feeling. _

_Have the strength I never had and believe in what's in your heart. _

_You are always welcome to come home, but I know you will do what you have always done so well. _

_You'll see this to the end, and you'll hold on to this man's heart as I hope he does for you. _

_Merry Christmas my dearest daughter. _

_Come home when you can. _

_I'm so proud of you. _

_I love you, _

_Your mother_

I smiled over the letter, sticking it with the others under my bed with the others.

It was her way. I knew it, when most people thought it was distant or flippant.

She was my mother, and I loved her.

And I was glad she accepted what I had chosen for my life.

~~oo~~

"You sure you don't want to come with us?" Alice asked as she lumbered across the room with her suitcase. "It's just for a few days and I doubt the post will deliver with the holidays."

"I'm helping Esme cook Christmas dinner for the men, I can't," I said as I stood by the door.

Rose narrowed her eyes at me and pushed her knit hat over her hair.

"You can't use the hospital as an excuse every time we go away, Bella. The men will be fine without you for a few days," she huffed.

"They might, but since I'm not going home, I want to give them the kind of Christmas I would want to have," I replied, smiling benignly.

She rolled her eyes and flipped her scarf in a showy performance.

"Fine, enjoy your time singing carols with all the depressed men who can't go home," she said and marched off. "Merry Christmas!"

I frowned at her flippant cruelty before turning back to Alice, who was scowling off towards Rose as she walked down the street towards the taxi waiting for them.

"Is it too late to stay with you?" she asked and then hugged me. "Don't let Rose get to you. She's just upset that she's letting that Emmett get to her. Call us if you get letters?"

I nodded and hugged her back, watching as she lugged her large suitcase to the taxi and before long I was standing on the stoop to our boarding house, shivering in the cold.

I could have gone with them, but in my heart, I knew I would regret it. I'd worry the entire time I was there. And here I could make some people happy by offering them a bit of the holiday spirit. That in itself made spending Christmas alone for the first time worth it.

Because I wouldn't be alone. I'd be with people who needed me.

~~oo~~

"Bella?"

I stopped in the common room, turning at the sound of Mrs. Cope's voice. She was standing in the doorway to the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. Her hair was pulled back into her usual bun, but fine wisps had gotten away, as if she had been hard at work. And her face was flushed.

The house smelled much like our kitchen had after all the cooking we had done.

"You hungry, Bella?" she asked and stepped towards me.

I pulled off my scarf and hat, tucking them into my coat.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Cope. I ate at the hospital," I replied and smiled, ready to turn to head up stairs.

"A package came for you today. I didn't even know the post was delivering, but the young man who delivered it seemed determined that you get it," she said and turned toward the buffet near the dining room table.

"What kind of package?" I asked, suddenly excited and nervous.

She turned with a smile on her face.

"A small one," she replied and handed it to me. "The young man wanted to make sure you knew that the US Army is very sorry it took so long to get here. It seems to have been through the wringer."

Mrs. Cope's words and the room seemed to float away as I concentrated on the small box in my hands. It was light, as if it carried very little. But the name on the return address had my heart racing.

My fingertips glossed over the brown paper wrapping, torn at the edges to reveal the crumpled edges of a box.

Edward had never sent a package before.

Only letters.

I turned it over to look at the stamps littering the front of it.

It looked like it had been stamped for several places. I followed the dates like an investigator trying to solve the mystery.

APO Liverpool

APO London

APO DC

APO NY

Inspected September 13, 1944

Inspected October 30, 1944

Inspected November 29, 1944

The final postmark was last week in NY, December 14.

I was beyond curious.

A package. From Edward. From before he left England.

The paper ripped so easily, after so many inspections, revealing a small cardboard box.

And inside.

Under the paper wadding...

My breath caught and my eyes stung.

Oh Edward.

Under a thin wrapping of tissue paper I found a small locket, in the shape of a heart. I pooled the gold chain in the palm of my hand and turned the small locket over, my heart swelling at the small engraving there.

E.M. +B.S.

Hoping for more, I opened it up to find the small pictures empty. My momentary disappointment disappeared when I discovered the letter in the box.

A letter.

And a locket.

I vaguely remember wishing Mrs. Cope a good night before I rushed up to the bedroom, and found myself on my bed, ripping the envelope open to get my fix of his words.

Edward never disappointed.

_My dearest Bella,_

_I'm sending this to you with the hopes that it gets to you swiftly. But knowing the situation we are in, perhaps this will arrive closer to Christmas. I jest of course. But I saw this and knew in my heart that it was meant for you. _

_I wanted to include a picture, but time ran out on me and so I decided to mail this out sooner than later, not knowing when I could do so again. And because I know it's your birthday in a few days. Don't be angry with Alice. I fear we have created a monster in both Alice and Jasper. _

_I found this in a little shop near the base, and since I carry you with me close to my heart, I hope this will give you the chance to do the same. You are in my heart always and on my mind constantly. With this next mission I don't know how long it will be, so I can only ask you to be patient and know that I am going to do my best to come home to you. _

_Happy Birthday, my angel, with all my heart. _

_My heart is yours. _

_Forever, _

_ Edward_

I laid there in my bed as the snow fell outside on Christmas, smiling at the glint of the locket in the warm light of the room. I wondered as I always did about where Edward might be at that very moment, but his gift and his letter had eased my worries, as they always did.

I could only hope he was safe.

And have faith that he was going to come home.

I slipped the chain around my neck, eyeing the picture on the nightstand and smiled as I closed my eyes.

This was the best Christmas ever.

~~oo~~

* * *

**AN: Made it to Christmas! yay! **

**And yes, Charlie and Renee are still married in my story, but if you read between the lines, you can tell that they may have a heap of issues between them. Too much to really go into now, but at least Renee knows love when she sees it. **

**So as far as timelines go- Edward would be deep in battle in Bastogne. A town the 101st were ordered to maintain so that the seven roads leading into Bastogne could remain clear and the Germans could not advance. Cold, ill prepared for the battle, those men held the town. Near starving, without their winter gear and virtually no ammo, they held it. Bad weather kept the Army from giving them the support they needed. **

**It was in Bastogne that the German General of the offensive insisted on the surrender of Allied troops, 101st acting commander Brigadeer General McAuliffe shouted back one of the most memorable quotes in the Battle of the Bulge. He shouted "NUTS" to the German general, who interpreted that as "go to hell." By December 27th, relief troops aided the beleaguered Airborne, who would later be called the Battered Bastards of Bastogne. Unfortunately, relief didn't mean they were pulled away. The 101st Airborne would remain to secure and protect Bastogne until January 17th of 1945. **

**I can only imagine what someone like Edward must have been thinking in the cold cold night Christmas eve as he sat freezing in his foxhole. **

**No, I don't think I can write that... you all can imagine it as you will. **

**more soon! **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	28. Chapter 28

**Happy weekend my dears! I said over on FB that this was embarrassingly short... well then I felt the need to push the next chapter in with this one... so here we are!**

**EPOV next chapter, for those jonesing for some EPOV!**

* * *

~~oo~~

New year, new hope.

Nothing could get me down with a new year ahead, a brighter forecast for the future, and with Edward's newest words still on my mind.

Sure, the letters we received just after the New Year were several weeks old, but they were still alive and writing to us. We didn't know when the next batch of letters would come, but I knew in my heart that Edward was alive and well.

I practically skipped to the hospital through the grey chill February morning, unaffected by the cold wind and the slush under my feet as I travelled. The ground hog may have predicted six more dreary weeks of winter, but I could only see the sun and spring ahead of me.

Edward's locket lay snug between my breasts, close to my heart, warm and well.

Edward's latest letter lay snug in my pocket. I would carry it until he was home.

It's what you did when a man proclaimed his love to you.

~~oo~~

_December 31_

_Dearest Bella,_

_The last few months have proven to me that war is not the answer. I have watched countless men die, and feared for myself on too many occasions. Knowing that you are home and safe have been the only things to keep me strong. _

_It is still immeasurably cold here, but at least I have a bed and blanket to sleep with now that supplies have finally broken through. Never before have I been so thankful for an extra pair of socks and the scratchy wool blankets they have provided. _

_And the food is a relief as well. Did you know that you can make soup from just about anything the Army gives you? Except perhaps the charms candies and the chocolate. I may never again be able to stomach a Hershey bar, but I am thankful I had some with me this last week. _

_I miss you. Is that strange to say, having never met you before? I miss the letters. I miss hearing your voice in my head, which I know is a made up thing, but it is needed on some of these darkest of nights. I couldn't take all your letters this time, so I have my favorites. Your letters may well be my savior. They kept me warm, both in words and in the simple insulation they provided. _

_I know you will get this late, probably long after I have left this god forsaken town. But with each day that passes that keeps me from coming home, I long more for that day when I can see you, touch you and tell you in person how much you mean to me. _

_You are so very important to me, I want you to know that. _

_And with every letter that I send, I am a coward for not saying it in solemn declaration. _

_By now I hope you have received my package. I hope you like it. It is my promise to you that I am yours, and hope that by your accepting it, that you are mine. _

_I have been a coward for long enough. Things I have seen, things I have done, tell me that a man has only an instant and it can all be taken away. I will not let another second go without telling you what I feel, and what I hope for. _

_You are my intended. I know this, because you are all I think about, even in battle, I see your smiling face and I know there is something more. We have something more, regardless of time spent together or moments we have yet to share, you are meant for me. _

_I am yours, my angel. _

_I always will be. And I will come home to you, this I promise. _

_I only hope it is soon, so that I can show you just how much I care for you. Words are not enough. My arms are not enough. My heart is not enough. _

_You have everything I can offer you and more. _

_I will come home soon, I promise._

_I love you. _

_Forever, _

_Edward. _

~~oo~~

Nothing could get me down.

Edward loved me.

And he promised to come home.

I know it was reckless of him to do so. You couldn't predict war.

But I could feel it in my heart.

He would come home to me.

~~oo~~

**March 4****th**

"Good morning Ness," I said brightly as I walked through the lobby.

Nessie turned and offered me a coy smile, tucking a note back into her apron pocket.

"Good morning, Bella," she replied. "You're happy this morning."

I grinned and pulled my cap off my head, nodding to her pocket.

"And so are you. Letter from Jake?"

She blushed and her smile grew.

"He's such a romantic. He's only a few miles away, and yet he still thinks that letters are the way to a woman's heart," she said and let out a contented sigh.

I chuckled softly to myself and moved towards the stairs. I didn't have the heart to tell her he was writing to her because he had learned it from me. Before Jake had left, he had pleaded with me to help him pen his first letter to her.

They were incorrigible now.

"When you write back make sure to tell him I said hello and that he can come and visit sometime!" I called and started up the stairs.

My smile from the beautiful early spring morning wilted a little at the sight of so many new men in the wards, and I quickly donned on my own apron, knowing that I would be doing more than a shave here and there and reading Walt Whitman. The nurses in my ward were hustling around, the dozen beds that had been empty the day before now full with new faces.

Faces that looked older than their years. Faces that wouldn't necessarily look back when I came to introduce myself to them on my rounds. I started with the men I knew first, making sure they were taken care of with their morning shaves and breakfast before joining Esme beside two new soldiers. She looked particularly weary this morning.

"Long night," she explained, changing the bandage on one of the men who must have just come out of surgery as his leg still bleed some when she gently removed the soaked bandage. I swallowed and looked away, the man beside us catching my eye.

Esme noticed and shook her head.

"They all came in last night on transport. The hospitals in England and France can't keep up. Some of these men shouldn't have made the trip, these two included," she said, fussing with the sheets over the one man before gesturing to the one I was looking at.

His head was bandaged nearly completely; making his head look bigger than it should on his body. The only thing visible on him was his lips and chin; both chapped and scabbed as if he had been drug behind a vehicle. I could see bandages beneath his shirt across his chest, and one leg was pinned up, cast in plaster from toes to his hip.

"Most won't talk, but perhaps in a day or two when the drugs wear off," she said and pursed her lips in annoyance. "They drugged these poor boys so much with morphine for the trip, I can't tell how much pain they're in."

Esme leant down to adjust the covers on the man and I watched his thin body shudder when she felt him touch her, but her soothing coo made him relax slightly before she stood and pulled me away.

"Best to make them as comfortable as we can, and keep the room quiet until they settle in," she whispered and pointed towards the doors. "Would you go to the supply room for more blankets? When they come off the morphine, they'll be cold. And most of these boys are so malnourished…."

She clamped her mouth shut, forcing herself not to start the motherly tirade I had heard many times when the men came in, underfed and nearly starved from the frontline.

She walked away, and I did as she said, knowing that Esme knew better about what they needed. We had seen it every time a new group came in, but it took some adjustments to distance your feelings about their suffering. We had to deal with the aftercare.

New men in, some in worse shape from the trip across the ocean than their actual wounds, and helped set them to rights before the real battle began. Most of these men were still in some form of shock from their wounds and from battle. And the ride across the ocean was never easy this time of year, leaving doctors on the ships to dope up their patients beyond their limits in order to ease their pain and suffering.

I came back to the two men Esme had been working on and covered them gently with extra blankets, the one with the head bandage already shaking and mumbling incoherently. A thin bead of perspiration had formed on his upper lip. I took one of the clean towels I carried on me for shaving and leaned in to wipe the sweat away, whispering softly just before I touched him so as not to startle him.

"You're safe now. You're home."

He whimpered and swallowed hard, trying to say something but it stuck in his throat, his lips sticking together from his own dried saliva.

Sitting beside him I touched his lip gently with the towel, feeling his body shiver at the touch. He mumbled again, his voice raspy and unintelligible, but I could feel his concern and could almost discern the word home from his throaty groan.

"It's all right. You're home now," I said quietly and felt his body relax as I wiped away the sweat.

I stayed with him until he seemed to fall asleep, his lips slightly turned out in a pout as he slept. He seemed still slightly troubled, but without seeing the rest of his face, I had no way to tell.

I wondered what nightmares he would have as the drugs cleared from his head.

Like all the new men I met in the hospital, I wondered where he had fought, what he had done over there.

If he knew Edward.

Every man who was a paratrooper that came in instantly had the hairs on the back of my neck rise, first in fear that it could be Edward, and then secondly that he had known Edward, and that Edward had not come home alive. It was a sick game my mind and my heart played, checking the patients clipboard to confirm it was not Edward, then toy with the morbid idea of what if it had been.

It was no different with these men.

The one with the bleeding amputated leg looked nothing like Edward's photo, but still I looked.

Marine.

The man with the bandaged head was 82nd Airborne, and for a moment the fear settled in deep.

Perhaps he knew him….

He whimpered again in his sleep, his hand flexing and reaching for his chest as if to grab something. I soothed his hand away before he could rip at the bandage there, whispering softly once more to him. His grip was strong in mine as he clasped at my hand, as if begging me to let him tear at his chest.

"It's all right Lieutenant Tipton. Everything will be all right."

He relaxed at my touch and my voice once more, and was asleep once more. I felt a pang of sadness wash over me at the sight of him. Just a little bit earlier, I had been happy and sure of my future. But with this man's hot hand still grasping mine, it reminded me that these men were real.

And they suffered.

And somewhere, Edward could be suffering too.

Hope and faith, dashing to oblivion by Lieutenant Tipton's desperate and needy grasp of my hand. I held onto his hand for a long while, feeling his need and my need were somehow connected. These men needed the reassurance that all would be well.

Somewhere, I hoped that Edward had that support so he could come home.

I needed him to come home.

~~oo~~

**_AN: oh, well… I had not intended on writing this far ahead… but I decided it was probably a good thing to get to here. Because next up is an EPOV. He knocked around my head last night, demanding a chapter… so here we are. _**

**_History! _**

**_Soldiers carried minimal rations with them on the front, enough to get them through a few days on their own- You know those lovely protein bars we eat for workouts? Yeah, well these weren't quite like that. _**

**_K-rations (called that to be distinct to D-rations and B-rations and perhaps after their inventor, Dr. Keys) were the emergency rations front lines ate. Designed early on for paratroopers because of their lightweight, K-rations were packaged as for three meals, each about as big as a Cracker Jack box (K-rations were manufactured by Cracker Jack). _**

**_About 2800- 3000 total calories for 3 meals (roughly 1000 calories a meal), they were minimalistic in taste and variety, and purely meant for short stints of eating when supply lines were limited, mostly for elite forces that fought ahead of the main front lines. They were never intended for longer than a few days sustenance, but many frontline troops would eat them for as many as 15 to 20 days at a time. This led to significant weight loss in more active soldiers (men who dug those foxholes, had to climb mountains or carry heavy loads through difficult terrain burned more like upwards of 5000 calories a day). Muscle loss and Vitamin C deficiency was very common. You didn't see a lot of overweight soldiers after several weeks in the field. Many were found to be malnourished. _**

**_Consisting of pemmican biscuits (a kind of compact protein biscuit with meat and lard that has been pressed) or dried cheese and crackers, a can of pork/beef with apple or carrots or a ham and egg mixture, bouillon cubes, a 4 pack of cigarettes, some form of candy such as chocolate or caramel, a few sticks of gum or hard candies, sugar packets and a lemon or orange powder drink (often discarded by soldiers because it tasted like sucking on a lemon, but full of vitamin C)- men were expected to live off of these for days. A supplemental D-ration energy bar was later included (think Protein Bar) and powdered coffee made it on the menu, but many men couldn't heat water to make coffee, so it was a rare luxury to have a cup of joe. _**

**_Lightweight (11oz) and easily hidden in their uniform pockets, soldiers had these "meals ready to eat" available at any time- MRE's are still the standard today (I've had one or two- my marine boyfriend at the time wanted me to experience it….ummm. still lacking in flavor) but today's MRE's are more balanced, if more processed to provide more vitamins than what our WW2 boys had. All in all, they may have saved them from sure starvation, but their taste was much to be desired. _**

**_Paratroopers were given also Charms candies and Hershey bars (most soldiers had these as their sweet ration) to help provide extra energy. Based on their 80 lb packs and all the hiking, marching and digging they did, they needed every calorie. _**

**_Now I'm hungry for a big juicy steak or roasted chicken for Edward and the boys…_**

**_I'll leave you to theorize, and wait for a word from Edward, coming next! Pictures of rations on the FB page... ;)_**

**_Thanks so much for all your love and support! _**

**_MWAH!_**

**_steph_**


	29. Chapter 29

**Hello All! My my my…. So many ideas and theories on the last chapter…. **

**A reminder… dates are important. **

**And since this is EPOV- a warning… hey- he's in battle. Expect what happens in battle in this one. And maybe tissues?**

**For those lovelies reading this with your husbands- I love you. And husbands? This one is full of action. Oohrah. **

**More at the end. **

* * *

~~oo~~

My feet were numb as we trudged down the road, a long line a weary soldiers on their way to the next big battle. Miles and miles of foreign country passed us, and still we walked. Transports were busy carting supplies to where they were needed.

I couldn't say where I was. Belgium still?

I limped along, head buried into my winter coat so that my chin nestled into the soft edges of her letters. My lips tugged at the corners, wincing only slightly at the cut at the corner of my mouth that hadn't quite healed.

A little pain, a little weariness. All was washed away for a fleeting moment every time I thought of her.

_Bella._

What would she be doing now?

Sleeping? What time was it in New York?

It must be late. Or early? I had no idea.

What did she look like when she slept?

Smiling still? Her face relaxed as it rested on my chest while she slumbered?

Would her breath tickle?

I sighed at the thoughts forming in my head. I couldn't allow the distraction.

But I was sure she'd be beautiful there beside me.

My feet shuffled across the gravel and I imagined Bella at work then, reading in a chair beside some solider. I smiled, thinking of her soft smile like the one in my picture. It seemed like forever since I had last heard from her. A few letters just before Christmas I was sure. We had been all over this country, maybe we were in another country by now. But with it came the fact that no one could really track us down.

We hadn't a break in forever it seemed.

I didn't even know what the date was today.

I was pretty sure it was February. Early February.

"Watch your step there, Masen."

I picked up my pace in front of McCarty, smirking at him when he tripped himself. The ruts in the muddy dirt road made it difficult if you didn't pay attention. McCarty swore under his breath and resumed his pace behind me, favoring his injured leg.

"Is it still bothering you?" I asked, nodding to his leg as I fell back in line beside him.

He waved me off nonchalantly.

"Just cold. Makes it stiff," he replied and lit up another cigarette. He offered me his last one but I shook my head, looking off towards the front of the line.

"Where do you think we are?"

"Not in Germany," he grumbled. McCarty had an obsession with reaching Germany so he could singlehandedly finish off Hitler.

If it ended the war sooner….

We were quiet for a long while and walked on, stumbling and cursing now and again in the ruts. Walking was just another way to sleep standing up for most of us now, and we let our minds shut off when we could. If the Germans knew just how tired we were most days when we traveled, it would be the end of us.

We passed a small town, gutted by shells and left to burn. It was the same thing we had seen for several days. It seemed when the Germans backed out in their retreat, they meant to leave nothing of use when they left. Every once in a while we'd see villagers come out. They'd greet us shaking our hands, the old women kissing us on the cheeks.

And the young women. Well, they wanted kisses too. I had learned to say "no, thank you" in three different languages now.

I flicked my cigarette away from me and let out a weary breath.

I missed Bella.

My hand was at my chest again, pushing against the bit of padding there.

_Still there_.

"You write her again?"

I nodded.

"Did you tell her about the gun shot?"

I looked at him dubiously.

"Did you tell Rosalie about yours?" I shot back, knowing his answer.

He chuckled and shook his head.

"What they don't know will keep them happy," I murmured and patted my pocket, feeling my letters there. There weren't a lot of them. I was finding it harder to write the simple things to her. So much of my time was doing in bad, I had very little to say that was good.

The last thing she needed to know was about a ridiculous gunshot wound in my leg.

It barely hurt anymore, just when we had to march for miles like we had been for the last few days. It would be a reminder of Bastogne, something I would never talk about. We all had scars from that place. Nightmares were the worst, and whenever I dwelled on the pain in my leg, they would come.

So I wouldn't tell her about it.

She'd worry unnecessarily.

Jasper came up from ahead of us and patted me on the shoulder.

"There's a drop off station ahead," he said and winked.

I pulled out the small bundle of letters and kept walking, glad to be able to send them out, wishing there might be a chance to get some of hers in return. I knew that was impossible. I just hoped that on the next leave, we'd have them in abundance.

"What's the date, Whitlock?" I asked suddenly, fishing out my pencil from my pocket.

"The tenth I think."

I jotted down the date on the outside of the envelopes, so she'd know when it was sent and nodded to the private taking letters from the troops as they passed him. It was eerily reminiscent of when the chaplain took our letters that first jump.

"When are these going out?" I asked as I handed the letters over to him.

"Today, if the rain holds out. We've established a station about five miles back from where you came," he said, nodding to the men as they passed and handed off their own letters.

I thanked him and fell back in line, amused when McCarty jogged out of line to give the man a few letters. I grinned into my coat and kept walking, sure that Whitlock had done the same earlier.

Looked like the girls would get some mail soon enough.

I imagined Bella's smile again as she had described rushing to her room to read.

It wasn't difficult to imagine that smile.

Every curve of her face was etched in my mind.

And her picture lay tucked in my pocket, close to my heart.

And her letters.

My angel was here to keep me safe.

~~oo~~

"Down! Down down down!"

We scattered into the trenches beside the road, guns at the ready. We could hear the sound of the panzers up ahead, still at a good distance from our current location. I looked around and waited for Lt. Tipton's order. He paused over his own gun and motioned for a small group of us to go on reconnaissance to see how far the tanks were.

The rest of us waited in the wet trenches, my leg aching and my stomach growling from the missed meal from this morning. Sleep had seemed more important at the time. I was beginning to regret it.

A volley of weapon fire off to our left and we were motioned into the trees. I watched McCarty and Whitlock on the opposite side of road disappear and then I too was hidden in the trees. The Lieutenant was crouched near me, whispering to the radio operator our coordinates.

The panzers rumbled closer, and instinctively, we crouched a little lower, wanting to remain hidden. We didn't have the means to attack them; that would have to wait for the squads behind us. We were just the recon wedge.

Half a dozen tanks passed, and a division of German troops behind it before it was safe to move again. I winced at my stiff muscles and slowly stood, following the rest of the men to resume our journey. It was late afternoon now, and hopefully we would find a place to make camp.

We heard the distant tank fire, this time behind us, and Lt. Tipton received a message from the radio man that the group behind us was engaged.

We were on our own.

And all I really wanted was a safe foxhole to sleep.

And maybe eat.

~~oo~~

"Corporal Masen."

I jumped to my feet, my face half shaved and my jacket lying on the ground.

"Yes, sir."

Lt. Tipton regarded the area around my gear and frowned.

"I need you on duty in fifteen minutes. I just sent another patrol out to recon. That is all," he said and turned from me, essentially dismissing me.

I kept my mouth shut and rushed through the last of my shaving, cringing at the cut I knew had sprung up on my jaw. Cleaning up my area double time, I shoved Bella's letters into my breast pocket of my jacket, intent on keeping them close with no time to secure them. Whitlock and McCarty joined me moments later, looking as disheveled as I was.

"Brigadier Tiptoes tell you to stand sentry too?" McCarty grumbled through the ration bar he was chewing.

I finished lacing up my boots and stood.

"Lieutenant Tipton did, yes," I corrected, weary of McCarty's nickname.

The lieutenant was an ass, but he was still our CO. He hadn't been with us long, just a couple weeks since our last batch of CO's kept dying. But he was cocky and had been given our company to command alongside his 82nd men, at least until a new CO was dispatched. It'd be our fourth.

He was green in the field, but hadn't failed us yet.

He was just an insufferable ass when it came to ordering us around. He thought the 82nd men were accepting the riffraff of the 101st. Sometimes the animosity and competitiveness of our squads baffled me.

We all fought alongside one another in the end. No sense feeling like one was better than the other.

Even if we were better than the 82nd.

"We'll take the east side, you got the west?" Whitlock asked.

I nodded absently and secured my weapon, turning away from them to start my shift.

The distant gunfire suggested it was going to be a long day.

~~oo~~

Another barrage of shells and I was ducking down deeper into my foxhole. It was late, middle of the night.

The explosions were blinding if you looked at them directly, and lit up in stark relief the battered landscape we were attempting to take from the Germans. We had been entrenched for two long days, going on the third miserable day. No relief in sight. Just as it always seemed of late.

My uniform was soaked through, even with the foul weather gear. My feet were numb again and the ache in my leg was unbearable. I moved to stretch it out again, causing the Lieutenant to stir from his fitful sleep.

"What is it?" he said groggily. "Is it time for my shift?"

"Sorry, sir. No," I whispered. "Just needed to stretch."

He grunted and tipped his helmet back over his eyes.

How he could sleep in the cold and the shells going off…

Truth was we could sleep through anything at this point. Every part of me was exhausted. I slept for an hour here, an hour there. I readily agreed to night watch. Sleeping at night was much harder now. Especially in the winter here.

I hated the cold. It felt cold enough to snow, and that would only serve to make things worse. It was nearly impossible to keep warm in a foxhole in the snow. And the idea of dying here from the snow made me think again of Bella. I shook my head to rid myself of the thought and corresponding images.

I wouldn't go that way.

All those dead bodies we had found of the Germans in Bastogne, frozen into their holes forever.

No.

It wouldn't snow. Rain I could deal with.

I would stay alive through this.

The Lieutenant mumbled in his sleep and I let out a soft breath, watching the air mist before me. I wondered if he had anyone at home that made him want to live. A girl back home.

A wife?

I had never asked.

We weren't that close.

He was just my CO, and had by my luck ended up in my foxhole.

Ordered me to be on guard first shift of the night and had fallen asleep.

I'd sleep at sunrise.

I hoped.

~~oo~~

"Eat quickly, Corporal. And I doubt you'll get a shave in this morning. Too damn cold anyway," Lieutenant Tipton said as he crawled out of the hole. He looked rumpled in his shirt, tossing his jacket down to splash water on his face from his helmet. His dark beard was starting to take over his face. I don't know how he put up with the itching. But I guess it kept him warm. He certainly had enough hair sprouting from his shirt to make me think he was more bear than man.

I grabbed my gun, laying it just outside the hole so I could climb out.

The gunfire had progressively gotten closer in the night, but now it was deathly silent.

I stiffly crawled out, knowing if I didn't relieve myself now, I wouldn't have a chance again for a long time. The sun was just beginning to break over the horizon as I slipped into the shelter of some nearby bushes, assuring what little privacy I could for my morning ritual. I had forgotten what it was like back home.

Plumbing.

God, I missed it.

Toilets. Showers. _A hot bath._

I missed all the things from back home.

A steak.

Potatoes that weren't powdered.

Eggs. Real honest to goodness eggs.

Bacon.

And not soup. I was sick of soup.

But hot water. Damn I missed fresh hot water.

I was bent over my helmet daydreaming of a hot bath, peeling off my jacket so that I could wash the dirt away when it happened.

Eerie quiet was broken by a noise so loud I couldn't think from the concussion of it.

Thrown onto my stomach, I felt the ground shake under me; felt bits of debris hit me forcefully from behind. On my hands and knees I crawled towards the foxhole, my eyes burning from the dirt and gunpowder making it difficult to make out in the haze.

Tipton sat awkwardly beside our foxhole, his eyes wide and mouth open in what looked like a scream, but I couldn't hear anything for the ringing in my ears. He blinked and his mouth moved, his eyes growing wider as he reached for me, grabbing at me in desperation. His mouth moved again, the veins in his neck straining so I knew he must have been screaming.

I couldn't hear. I blinked, thinking that would help me to hear and felt the bits of dirt mix in with the moisture in my eyes.

I struggled to stand, trying to help pull the Lieutenant up as I did so. He wouldn't move though, too heavy. His hand tightened in my shirt, gripping hard and tugging, threatening to pull me down again.

Into the foxhole.

Probably safer.

Why hadn't I thought of that?

The ground shook again. Everything burst apart around me in a spray of dirt and debris.

Tipton's hand tore away from me as I flew backward; ripping away at my shirt he had clung so hard. The cold air of the morning was lost on my naked skin as the heat of the explosion washed past me in a suffocating wave.

Pain rocketed through my bad leg and up through my spine when I landed. I was blinded for a moment from all the dirt. I scrambled on the ground, knowing somewhere close my helmet had been there.

_My gun. _

_Need my gun._

I felt the helmet first and put it on in a rush, trying to find my gun in the debris. But my eyes were burning from the heat and the dirt and the acrid smell of burning.

It was then that my hands came back wet. I wiped at my eyes, thinking it was the water that had spilled from my helmet, but the more I wiped away the harder it was to see.

Everything was murky brown and red.

I tried to cry out, felt it in my burning throat, but I couldn't hear. Blinking hard I felt bits of metal in the ground. I grabbed at it and prayed it was my gun.

Needed to get in the hole.

My lips tasted like blood.

I must have been hit.

Was I bleeding?

My body was numb.

"Lieutenant!" I screamed.

I think. No sound.

Crawling through broken twigs and mud.

Where was the hole?

Shelter. Need shelter.

On my hands and knees, fingers cutting into the small pieces of metal I held in my hand, finding the chain.

My tags?

When did they come off? Felt at my bare chest and winced at the pain there. But no metal. No chain.

The blast must have blown them off of me.

I slipped them into my pants, too frantic to put them on and dragged myself towards what I thought was the hole for cover.

And found a leg. I patted it to see if the Lieutenant was beside me.

Couldn't find the rest of him.

Found the mud was thick.

Where was the goddamn hole?

Had to find cover. My gun.

My jacket.

My jacket. Letters. Bella.

Bella's letters.

Screaming at the top of my lungs.

Where is it!

And the exploding flash of light, too brilliant in my clogged eyes.

And I was thrown.

Almost felt like being airborne that first night. Weightless and helpless.

Except I knew. No chute.

Too close to the ground.

Velocity without a properly inflated chute would cause for a hard landing.

_Roll, soldier. Roll and…_

White hot flashing pain. Crashing. Tumbling. Impact.

_Bel-_

**~~oo~~**

* * *

**AN: Digging my own foxhole as quickly as I can. **

**Now you all knew it would come to something like this… But as I promised the gals over in the FB foxhole- Edward will have all his limbs intact. And I won't mess with the face…..much. You explain the crooked smile! Smirk**

**Happy to answer questions as you have them… **

**Short history time here… Panzers- Panzers were the German tanks in WW2- German technology was amazingly advanced and the Panzer tanks were hardy machines. Germans knew how to build their machinery and it wasn't just Mercedes Benz… Many labor camps (outfitted with forced labor and able bodies from the concentration camps) manufactured these machines of war- the missiles, the bullets, the guns, the tanks. Every bit of blood sweat and tears went into German engineering for war. Hitler's engineers worked tirelessly for new innovations to beat their enemy. If you got hit with a panzer shell, chances are you didn't come away from it. They packed a punch. **

**But what Hitler and his Generals were starting to realize- especially with Bastogne and the Battle of the Bulge- was that the Allied forces were a hardy bunch. Those men from the 101****st**** especially. They'd take it and take it and take it, and still come out fighting… **

**I this may be the last EPOV. He's whispering to me to do one more… we'll see. He can be so damn insistent!**

**I'll have another chapter in a few days. **

**Hang in there folks… say it with me now- HEA… HEA….HEA…**

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	30. Chapter 30

**Hello again! wow, so many reactions to the last chapter! I do love to write EPOVs... I might be swayed for another one. **

**So back to Bella. **

**And her new charges...**

* * *

**March 5th**

I rushed into the lobby, shaking off my coat and hat from the sudden downpour that had caught me just as I was within the block of the hospital. I knew my hair must look a fright, and my shoes squeaked as I walked, waterlogged from the standing water.

I had hoped it would be another sunny day, but having woken up to the gloom of overcast skies, I knew it would color my day. I took a deep breath and turned my back on the gloom outside, wanting to provide a little bit of sunshine to those I would see during the day. I left my personal items in Esme's office, waving to Jessica before moving towards the first ward on my duty sheet.

The hospital had always been busy for as long as I had been working here, but with the new men here from overseas, we seemed to be bursting with activity. Esme nodded me toward the stairs, her silent way of telling me I was needed in my ward.

_My _ward.

The men I had met my first few days here were long gone, but I had claimed the ward of men on the fourth floor as my own, and strangely word got around with every new patient coming in that it was mine as well. They took comfort in that. I smiled as I adjusted my apron, knowing that I made a difference in many of their lives. I couldn't count on both hands anymore the men that left the hospital with a more positive outlook.

It made me proud of my work.

I cared about these men.

So when I noticed Dr. Cullen by some of the new additions, I drifted towards him, wanting to get the information I would need to be able to help them along in their recovery.

"Finish with his bandages. It looks like he's healing alright on the outside at least."

"Good morning, Dr. Cullen," I said with a smile.

Esme's husband always brightened my day.

He was too old for a girl like me, but quite the charmer. And still handsome, his bright blonde hair hiding the grays around his temples very well. But his flashing blue eyes is what usually sent the girls swooning.

"Well good morning, dear girl," he said, offering me his dazzling smile. "Just starting your shift?"

I nodded and looked towards the patient he had been discussing.

Tipton I think it was. He was difficult to forget from the night before. I had stayed late holding his hand while he came down off the morphine.

"How is he?" I asked, watching as the nurse had begun bandaging his head once more.

I winced when I saw the stitches just behind his ear, and where they had shaved his hair to clean up the wound. It was much shorter than the rest of his head, obviously shaved at the time they had stitched it. Lucky for him it didn't look like the scar would be visible, and his hair was actually growing back.

He had a rather lovely shade of auburn hair that sat at odd angles from the bandages.

Dr. Cullen's voice pulled me back to the task at hand. His many injuries.

"He's managing. Still appears to have some hearing loss from the mortar explosion," Dr. Cullen was saying, writing in his chart. "Severe concussion from what his charts say from the battlefront, with hearing loss and blindness which is typical. He seems to be suffering from some confusion as well, which is common with these injuries. Not sure yet whether his issues are permanent or not. With all the bruising and swelling, it may be some time before his symptoms dissipate. We just need time for him I'm afraid. And patience."

I hadn't noticed the bruises under the eye bandages, but it appeared there was still some swelling along his cheek bones and the bruises were a mixture of purple and sickly yellow all the way down to his sharp jawline. His nose had a large cut across it, but looked like it hadn't needed stitches and was scabbed over, signs that he was indeed healing well.

Lucky he hadn't broken it in whatever explosion he had been in. And to think of how long he had taken to get to us and still be in the shape that he was in, only served to remind me of how bad he must have been.

How had he come to all these injuries?

Which reminded me of course that he was Airborne.

Which of course made me think of Edward.

"Where was he injured?" I asked.

"Shattered knee, broken femur, and looks like we might have to do surgery on it as it didn't get set correctly," Dr. Cullen continued.

"No," I interrupted. "I meant where in Europe was he injured?"

Dr. Cullen looked up from the man's chart and offered me his dazzling sympathetic eyes.

"Belgium," he murmured. "I am sure your boy is fine. You know that can't dwell on it, dear. Right?"

I let out a resigned sigh and nodded, making to leave Dr. Cullen to his work.

"He may be difficult to communicate with, just so you are aware. His confusion seems to make him frustrated. He startles easily and I am still not sure of the extent of his hearing loss," he said.

Lieutenant Tipton tilted his head towards us, making the nurse pause in her bandaging.

"Can you hear us, Lieutenant?" Dr. Cullen asked.

The man's hand rose slowly, tugging at the bandage around his one ear before reaching down to grasp at the bandage on his chest, pressing it and frowning.

"Not there. Lost…something…" he said, his voice a deep rasp as if he had not used his voice in some time.

Dr. Cullen notated something else into the man's charts and raised his eyebrows.

"Only time will tell," he said. "Can you make sure he eats today? He's underweight and refused to eat earlier. The nurse who tried to feed him left in a huff."

I noticed the grunt from the man and how his head cocked to the side.

I wondered if maybe he could hear just fine.

"I'll make sure he eats, Dr. Cullen," I said and smiled as he and the nurse moved on across the row to another new man.

I looked back at Lieutenant Tipton, whose head was still tilted slightly towards me.

The pout from last night was back, but the jaw seemed rigidly set, reminding me of a stoic Greek statue I had seen once at the museum. Unyielding and fierce.

Except this statue was wrapped up in bandages and hurting.

"Well, Lt. Tipton, let me make my rounds and then I'll make sure you are first to eat," I said and leaned down to adjust his covers so he didn't get cold. As soon as I touched the bedding he jolted and let out a gasp. His hand grabbed at mine and clutched it with the same intense desperation as he had the night prior when he had arrived.

"Gone," he croaked and touched his chest with his free hand, directly over his heart.

"Can you hear me?" I asked. His head tilted again, this time so that his ear was closer to my mouth. "Can you understand me, Lieutenant?"

He swallowed and pulled away, moving his head as if he was searching for something.

"I need to find…. I lost… something… You need to help me look…"

"We'll find it, Lieutenant. You just need to get better," I whispered, shaking my head at the absurdity that he would be able to hear my soft voice. I touched his hand gently allowing him to get used to me there before patting it and turning to walk away.

When I chanced a glance back at him, his hand had returned to his chest, his lips returning to a troubled frown. I wondered what was in his thoughts to make him seem so troubled.

No doubt he was upset from losing perhaps his comrades in arms.

And I felt the deepest sympathy for him.

Alone in a hospital ward.

Unable to communicate well with the strangers that only wished to care for him.

Not knowing the fate of his friends and comrades.

Hopefully his injuries would heal quickly. I didn't know how I would interact with him otherwise.

He did seem frustrated and that only led to trouble later.

~~oo~~

I had been around enough of these men who had been through hell and back to sympathize over their moods.

But this man tested the limits of my patience.

Like earlier this afternoon at dinner time.

"Lieutenant," I said wearily. "You need your energy. Please will you just take a sip?"

He jerked his head to the side and made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl.

"No soup."

He spoke quietly, but it was still surly.

"You have to eat," I said and tipped the spoon to his petulant lip.

I wasn't ready for his sudden movement.

The spoon flew across the room, and the thin cream soup ended up all over my apron.

I huffed and stood up, wiping furiously.

"No more soup, not ever."

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth.

Honestly.

You'd think he was a toddler.

He sat there with his silly pout, a small trail of soup down his front.

I turned from him and walked to retrieve the spoon.

And walked to the cart to replace his damned soup.

He could sit and pout if he wanted to.

But I wasn't going to clean up his petulant chin.

The man was a test to my patience.

All day long it had been like this.

I had tried to ignore the downpour outside and the gray light that seeped into the ward. I had helped the nurses with another man when he flew into a tantrum, thinking he was still in the field.

So much of today had worn at my nerves.

And I never had a bad day where I wanted to throw soup at an injured soldier.

But this man.

"Trouble with the new guy?"

I turned to see Rose behind me, her face a little forlorn.

"You all right?" I asked, moving to her.

She nodded and looked around the room.

"Just having a bad day. A lot of really difficult patients today," she said, but I knew she was harboring some other feelings I wouldn't get from her unless she offered them to me.

I looked back at the surly Lieutenant and sighed.

"He won't eat. Dr. Cullen says he didn't eat this morning either," I said and shook my head. "I don't know what to do. Usually they eat something. It's been a frustrating day for me too."

Rose looked the man over from where she stood and frowned.

"He does need to eat something; he's rather thin," she said, thinking. "Have you looked at some oatmeal maybe? Have the cafeteria make some up and put honey and apples into it. That's a start at least."

"I can do that?" I asked. Esme always said they had a strict diet and couldn't deviate from it.

Rose pursed her lips at me, knowing I was thinking about following the rules.

"Sometimes you have to bend the rules, Bella," she said. "There was a guy on the second floor who refused to eat, and we ended up sneaking the malts from down the street to him with bananas and fruit mixed in until he got a little better. Sometimes they just need a shove."

She patted me on the shoulder and left me there with the cart of soups for everyone. I decided if when I had finished feeding the other men, and the surly Lieutenant was still awake, I'd see about alternatives.

I finished my tasks and returned to the Lieutenant's side, watching as he lay there. His breathing was a little uneven, and his lips were dry once more.

"Lieutenant?" I asked, clearly enough but not so loud as to startle him.

He didn't move, he simply lay there with his bandaged head facing forward. The pout was still there, but the little bit of soup on his chin was long gone. Someone must have cleaned him up.

Instantly I felt guilty for walking away from him when he was in need.

I had failed him on his first day with me. I had been cruel and left him.

I turned and slipped out to the cafeteria, ordering up the oatmeal as Rose suggested and a bottle of milk. It was more than I usually spent on myself when I ate in the cafeteria, but if it helped him, what was the difference between giving it to him or putting it away for the war effort?

I settled into my seat beside him and touched his hand gently, knowing he'd jerk at my touch.

But he didn't this time. Instead he squeezed my hand gently and tilted his head towards me.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, squeezing his hand in comfort.

He swallowed and licked at his dry lips.

"Can you hear me?" I asked a little more clearly.

His free hand moved to his bandaged head, scratching at the gauze that covered his ear and nodded slightly.

"You can hear me," I said and felt a little relieved. "Is it getting better, then?"

He nodded and rubbed at his covered ear some more.

"Some," he managed and rubbed at his other ear and shook his head, letting out a defeated sigh. "Muffled, like you're talking through something. I can't… I don't remember what happened."

He let out a frustrated breath and rubbed at his chest again.

"It's all right," I said and squeezed his hand before releasing it. He searched for my hand when I released it and I could tell he was beginning to panic.

"I'm here," I said. "How about we try and eat something."

His pout tightened and he shook his head.

"No soup," he rasped.

I couldn't help but laugh. He sure had a thing against soup.

I remembered what Edward had written about making soup on the front and wondered if Edward would say the same thing when he came home.

"No soup," I maintained. "But I snuck in some oatmeal for you. Let's try that."

His mouth remained shut for a moment as I toyed with a small spoonful of honey-topped oatmeal at his lips. Then his tongue peeked out for just a second and darted back in before he swallowed.

I was about to scold him when he opened his mouth, letting the spoon in before closing it over and letting me remove it, cleared away.

I smiled when I heard a soft moan from his throat and his mouth opened again.

I happily refilled it and continued to feed him, watching as he barely chewed and simply swallowed so that he could get more. He even leaned into where he thought the spoon was when I wasn't fast enough.

Poor man had to be starving.

In no time at all I was scraping the remains from the bowl and feeding him the last of it.

He licked at his dry lips as if to grab every bit of his meal.

"I have some milk," I suggested and was impressed when he held out his hand in request for it.

I helped him guide it to his mouth and watched as he took large grateful gulps of the milk.

"I missed milk," he whispered when he was done, licking his lips again.

Taking the empty glass from him, I wiped at his mouth to clear away the milk on his upper lip.

"Thank you," he whispered, his hand reaching to find mine as I pulled away.

"It's my job. I want to see you get better," I replied, proud that I had helped him and seemed to ease his fear.

He was far less grouchy now that he was fed.

"Thank you," he said and paused, as if trying to remember my name.

"Bella," I prompted, smiling.

His lips pursed, and his head cocked to the side again.

"Bella," he whispered. It sounded a little wistful the way he said it.

He extended his hand out towards me.

"Thank you, Bella. It's nice to know you. I'm…" he said and paused, his head tilting to the side again. "I'm… I'm ... I don't remember my name."

I took his hand and held it, feeling his confusion escalate in his grip.

"It's okay, it'll come back to you," I said and held his hand a little firmer. "Your name is Tipton. Lieutenant Matthew Tipton."

His hand held mine for a moment more and then slipped away, sliding up to his chest again. The pout was back, something I was beginning to sense was his confused and troubled face.

"Tipton," he murmured and rubbed at his chest absently. "Sounds familiar."

I smiled and stood, leaning down to help him get settled for the night.

"It's familiar because it's you, sir," I said, smiling at him even though he could not see. "It will come back to you. Just get some rest and get better. Promise me you'll eat tomorrow morning?"

His head moved towards me.

"Won't you be here?" he asked and my heart hurt a little at the stress in his voice.

"I will be. Bright and early," I said.

The pout wavered a little into what I suspected was a smile.

"All right," he murmured, and the lips returned to that troublesome pout.

He was thinking too hard on things.

"Get some rest, Lieutenant. Things will get better, I promise. I will see you in the morning."

I started to walk away when he called after me.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"I remember Bella. Bella means beautiful."

His words triggered a memory of Edward's words from one of his first letters. I swallowed down the sudden pang of sadness at missing him. I felt at the locket buried under my blouse, feeling the hardness press against my breast.

Where was he right now?

Thinking about me as much as I was thinking about him?

When would I hear from him again?

When would I hear him say my name?

I let out a breath and tried to smile. I was glad he couldn't see because I knew it was a sad smile.

"I've heard that somewhere," I replied. "Good night, Lieutenant."

I gathered up my things, walking the short distance home in the late evening. Alice and Rose were working late, so I pulled out some of Edward's letters, starting with the first one.

And read them, one by one.

Missing him, having talked to Lieutenant Tipton and hearing him say those words to me about my name, made me miss Edward all the more.

I hoped the war was over soon.

So he could be home.

~~oo~~

**AN: Poor Lt. Tipton… alone and disoriented in a hospital. Good thing Bella is there and taking care of him...**

**So medical research is my weakest link... too many big words and phrases... I gloss over... **

**But what I did learn in researching head wounds was a little article from WW1, discussing "shell blindness". Men suffering from concussions after close blasts from mortar rounds would often walk around in a daze, losing their sight and hearing from the force of the blast and the head trauma. Confusion, memory loss and disconnect in thought were also common. So while men may not suffer from full blown amnesia, they're thoughts might be scattered or disjointed, or they may lose bits of their memory, returning sometimes very sometimes not at all. **

**I won't dwell too much on the specifics of the medical issues- its hard to go back to look at medical practices of the 40's- and so much changed even in the course of the war that it is hard to say how Dr. Cullen would diagnose and treat his men. Innovations from the war propelled medical advances by the day. **

**Just know that these men in the ward received special care- both for their injuries (as Carlisle suffered his own injuries and wished to help those like him) and for their mental health. Bella's little stubborn streak with surly Lt. Tipton may very well continue as both are stubborn about some things, but surely she and he will come to an agreement in order for him to heal- just like with the oatmeal. **

**More soon! **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	31. Chapter 31

**Hello again! So many many ideas floating around out there! and some angry fist shaking...lol... I HAVE listed this as Hurt/comfort...I know a number of you have never read my angsty stuff- it will get worse before it gets better... so stock up on the chocolate, the booze, the tissues... whatever gets you through the angst. But know I DO come through with HEA on my stories... trust...**

**So let's see how Bella continues on with her men in the ward:**

* * *

I was energized when I woke up, having spent my night with Edward.

Whenever I read from his letters, I felt like he was there with me.

I eyed the small box I held them in as it sat on the table while I drank my coffee, thinking about what he must be doing at the moment. The last letter from him had been a while ago, and he could be anywhere in Europe now.

But I could feel in my bones that he was alive and well.

Perhaps it was the lieutenant's words that had made me feel it so strongly.

Bella means beautiful.

I had found it immediately in Edward's letter, and felt that inexplicable tie to him strengthen around my heart.

Yes, he was still alive out there.

It was only a matter of time before I heard from him again.

With that determination in my heart, I left for work, hoping to provide some hope for the men in my ward. I was barely five minutes into my shift when I knew it would be a challenge, and I thanked my evening with the man I loved for providing me the strength I would need to get through.

Most of the men were settled down, relaxing in the early morning light.

But one seemed bound and determined to be the center of attention.

Lt. Tipton was already making a name for himself amongst the staff.

Dr. Cullen stepped away from his bed, glancing at me and shaking his head. The nurse who had been working on him walked away, a tight purse to her lips as she neared me.

"He's the most stubborn one we've had in a while. Good luck," she sneered.

I turned to watch her march out of the ward, the bundle of clothes and sheets tucked under her arm. Glancing back at the lieutenant, the familiar pout was back, and surprisingly, they had removed much more of his bandaging.

White gauze wrapped around his head just enough to hold the eye bandages in place.

It was nice to see a little more of him than before. It would make interacting with him a little easier.

I hoped.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," I announced brightly as I neared, hoping to soften is sour mood.

His head angled towards the sound of my voice and the pout tightened downward.

"Are you here to take my things too?" he groused.

"Take your things?" I asked.

He nodded stiffly and felt at his chest. I could see the bandage had been removed, offering a glimpse of a shiny thin scar there. His fingers pressed against his skin and he let out a strangled noise.

I moved closer, ready to comfort him if he needed it.

"They took them away," he croaked, grabbing at his shirt. "They're gone."

I looked down at him in confusion. The only thing missing was his bandages.

"They removed the bandages so your wound could breathe. It's almost healed, sir," I said, ghosting my hand over his in an effort to ease his trepidation.

He jerked away, nearly falling out of the bed in his effort to escape me.

"They're gone!" he bellowed, his voice cracking at the end.

"Lieutenant Tipton, it's all right," I started and then he whimpered and shook his head from left to right.

"They're gone. They took them from me."

"Took what, Lieutenant. I can help you find them," I replied, hoping if I offered him some hope, he'd calm down.

His breathing was unsteady as he tipped his head towards me, two gauze covered eyes seeming to stare me down.

"My letters. I lost my letters. They were all I had. And they're gone. They took them."

His voice broke my heart. Like a sad little boys, he was telling about something that was dear to him. Lost.

I blinked back my tears and patted him on the hand that covered his chest.

"We'll find your letters, sir," I said, hearing the heartbreak in my voice. "Don't worry. We'll find them."

He nodded and let out a relieved breath, mumbling about needing to keep them close. I had no idea how I would accomplish finding his no existent letters. He hadn't come in with them, so I assumed they had been lost somewhere in transit or in battle.

But I understood the importance of letters from loved ones were.

I knew that it would devastate Edward if he lost his.

I could see it in the lieutenants stiff set of his shoulders as he went back to rubbing at his chest.

It had certainly devastated him.

The lieutenant was silent while I fed him his breakfast, something not nearly as good as the oatmeal from the night before, but he ate it nonetheless. His confusion and fear was not unusual. Every one of the men I treated had some version of it while they recovered in my ward.

And I felt for him as much as I did the others.

There were so many, and I couldn't spend all my time on just one soldier in pain. I had others who needed me. So after the lieutenant brusquely jerked away from me when I tried to shave his ragged face, I took a deep breath and told him I would be back after I saw to the others.

I had others to attend to.

I couldn't let one man interfere with that.

No matter how much it hurt to leave the lieutenant in his mood.

At some point, he'd need to meet us half way.

Attending to everyone in both the wards I was assigned took most of the day, in part because so many new men had been assigned to us, and there was a lot of work to be done learning their names, and charting their history. By the time I had come back to check on the lieutenant, he was asleep in the early afternoon.

I thought at first I might be able to sneak away without disturbing him; he was obviously having a hard time dealing with people and needed time to come around. I tucked him in carefully so as not to disturb him, the pout ever present even in his dreams. The new bandages revealed more of his face and I frowned at how ragged he looked, having forbidden me to shave him earlier.

Obviously, no one else had been allowed to do it either.

"Bella?"

I jumped at his voice, it was deep and rough from sleep.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," I said quietly, not sure how well his hearing had improved. His head tilted slightly and he licked at his dry lips.

"Are you thirsty?" I asked and he nodded slightly. "Hungry?"

He swallowed and nodded again.

"I'll go see what they have for supper. Will you promise me you'll eat whatever I get?" I asked, knowing already it was soup.

He pursed his lips for a moment before his growling stomach answered for him.

"You have to trust me, Lieutenant. We want to see you better. But we have to work together," I said and turned away.

"I don't like soup," he grumbled softly, perhaps thinking I couldn't hear him.

"And I don't like having to fight men who behave like little boys," I said, watching a slight blush grace his scruffy cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'll behave."

I nodded and left to find him something to eat. When I returned, he was trying to sit up in his bed. I set the soup down on the table beside him and moved to him. He stiffened for a moment when he felt my hands on him, but then let out a breath and let me help him into a sitting position.

He should have weighed too much, and I could feel how thin he was when I wrapped my hands around his back to help prop him up. I could feel his hot breath on my neck, his head pressed against mine for support.

"You smell nice," he murmured and I felt his rough cheek heat up at his words.

"Well, thank you Lieutenant. I'm glad to know my soap works after a long day," I replied, not sure how to answer his observation.

I was used to the men offering me compliments, but Lt. Tipton was still a stranger. I didn't know how to let him down, if I needed to at all. He was just making a statement, right? Not flirting with me, surely.

There was an awkward silence between us as he settled in, and it wasn't until his first sip of the soup that he made a noise.

A petulant harrumph.

"Lieutenant?" I asked, challenging him.

"Well, it's not bouillon," he muttered and took another sip I offered him.

"No, it's pot roast," I said and he pulled his head back at the next spoonful.

"It's not pot roast," he countered.

I held the spoonful of soup to his lips.

"Yes, it is. It's pot roast with roasted carrots and potatoes. I spent a lot of time on the gravy so if you would, please eat it," I said.

His forehead wrinkled and he took the spoon in his mouth hesitantly.

"Do you taste the savory herbs I put into it?" I asked.

He licked the remnants from his lips and I waited.

I knew it was just beef soup broth with some various vegetables blended in to thicken it. We couldn't give the men solid foods much.

But imagination was a good thing. If I could get him to pretend, it would make things easier.

"What else is in it?" he asked and took another spoonful.

"I cooked up the onions and garlic first, and then added some herbs to the mix before searing the roast," I said, and continued to feed him every time he opened his mouth, more eager now as I described a home cooked meal I knew he'd appreciate.

"I taste the garlic," he whispered.

"And the roasted potatoes?"

He nodded and took another eager bite.

I smiled when I scraped the last of the bowl, impressed he had played along so well.

"Is there dessert?" he asked, a ghost of a smile on his face as he wiped at his mouth.

I wasn't sure if he was teasing me or being serious. It was difficult to interpret a person without seeing their entire face.

"If you behave tomorrow, and you let us do what we need to do, then perhaps I can find you some dessert," I said and stood up.

Looking at my watch, I grimaced at the time.

My shift had been over half an hour ago.

"I'll behave if there's dessert," he said, his smile spreading on his face.

I couldn't help but laugh. A few hours ago, half the hospital wanted to give up on this man. Now there was some hope.

And a smile.

"I'll hold you to that, Lieutenant," I said and stepped away from him, happy to have made a small difference in someone's life.

I wished him a good night and collected my things, ready to go home and write to the man that made a difference in my life. As I walked past the ward, I caught a glimpse of Lieutenant Tipton, the last rays of the day shining across his bed.

I frowned when I noticed the pout again, and his hand at his chest.

I had told him I would find his letters.

Tomorrow.

I'd look into seeing if he had personal effects with him when he arrived.

Finding his letters would boost his morale.

I knew it because I knew what Edward's letters did for me.

I went to bed that night hoping that perhaps I would hear from Edward tomorrow.

Always tomorrow.

~~00~~

Tomorrow turned into next week, the days passing in the blur of hustling around work, trying to keep the men's spirits up.

And while I tried to concentrate on the men, I couldn't help feeling the worry start to seep in as we waited for word from our men. Spring was showing itself in full form with the blossoms in the gardens and the green that sprouted from the trees in the courtyard.

It was a way of telling time for us.

Day in day out- work and sleep. Write and hope for something in return.

So when I received Edward's letter from February, it made me both glad at receiving it, and frustrated at the length of time it had taken to get to me.

It was unbearably short, the shortest letter I had received from Edward so far.

_Dearest Bella,_

_I am thinking of summertime, and hoping that by then I will be home and you and I can enjoy the warmth of the sun together. It is the only thing that keeps me from freezing my toes off. Winter here is worse than in Chicago, but perhaps that is because I don't have a warm home to stay in here. _

_We continue to march across this land, and somewhere we will make a stand that will end this. _

_I hope it is soon. _

_I need my summer with you. Your picture makes me think of that every moment I think on you, which is often. _

_I haven't received any of your letters since I left England, and for that I am left wishing we had a break. I am sure to have a stack waiting somewhere. It is just too difficult to deliver while we are on the move. _

_I hope these get to you soon, I don't know when I will be able to drop them off. _

_But just know, that I love you and think of you every waking moment. _

_Summertime can't come soon enough. So I will simply dream of it and wish for that warmth to carry me through. _

_With all my love. _

_Forever,_

_Edward_

I tucked my newest letter into my apron pocket, intent on reading it again on my break. Writing to Edward had made me late for work, but I was intent on dropping a letter off to him as soon as I could.

Happy to have another letter in the post, I walked into the ward with a smile on my face and a bounce in my step.

Springtime meant I could take the men outside finally.

A little sunshine would do them good.

I slowed my pace when I noticed the civilian couple standing near the head nurses desk at the end of the ward. They were older, perhaps in their fifties, and the woman was sobbing into her handkerchief while the man tried to speak with Esme behind the desk. They were very well dressed, clearly from well to do in that the war had not forced the woman from surrendering her silk stockings or her brand new shoes.

They were clearly upset over something, and I feared perhaps one of my men had died.

Most of the men were already outside, except for the ones that were impossible to move,

I was torn between escaping outside to the men, and helping Esme with the distraught woman by her desk.

"I don't understand!" she all but wailed, and her husband clutched at her a little harder.

"Mrs. Tipton," Esme started, standing to put her arm around the distraught woman. I put my hand over my mouth, fear and sadness gripping me at the notion that the Lieutenant had passed away.

He had been doing so well, they had even discussed pulling off his bandages last night.

"I am sure the Army is looking into it, Mrs. Tipton," Esme continued. She caught sight of me and nodded towards the door, silently instructing me to head out to the men. I nodded and wiped at my eyes, feeling all the grief Mrs. Tipton was feeling.

After all, the Lieutenant was one of my men. It was gutwrenching when one of them passed.

I made it outside, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes as the sunlight hit me. I'd have to appear unaffected, otherwise the men would catch on and the depression would set in.

A long breath out and I opened my eyes to find the men all in the yard, most in the shade.

I blinked when I saw the one man situated in a wheelchair by the blooming dogwood.

"Lieutenant?"

His head tilted towards the sound of my voice, a strange look on his face as he waited for me to come closer. I cautiously moved towards him, glancing up at the window of our ward to find Mrs. Tipton staring down, crying at the window.

"Lieutenant, why is your mother crying up in the ward while you're down here?" I asked.

He let out a grunt and turned his head so it was facing forward again.

"Didn't you hear?" he asked, his voice gruff.

But I could hear the pain in his voice as well.

"No, I haven't heard," I said looking up at the window again.

Mrs. Tipton was gone, but Esme was looking down now, a serious look on her face as she regarded the lieutenant.

"Lieutenant?"

"You're going to have to call me John from now on," he muttered and scratched at the uneven hair that poked out above his bandage.

"What happened?" I asked, growing nervous at his irritation.

He shook his head and let out a bitter laugh.

"I'm not Lieutenant Tipton."

I let out a resigned sigh and sat heavily onto the bench beside him.

What did you say to someone who just found out he wasn't who he didn't remember in the first place?

~~oo~~

* * *

**AN: What do you say? And how do you react, as the man in a bed, unable to see, hearing from someone you think is your mother say vehemently that you are not her son?**

**Oh my, he's going to have a rough time of this. **

**Many of you have asked or theorized about how someone might get the information that their loved one had been killed in action. Everyone has probably heard of the man in uniform coming to the door with the dreaded telegram. In small towns, the task was given to the clergyman or someone of like circumstances- the barber, the postman, the chief of police...I've read many stories about wives who would see a man on a bicycle and fear that they were there to deliver the worst of news. **

**But telegrams could have been wrong too- just as this case of mistaken identity was. Many families could have been told that their son/husband/father had died, only to find out later that he wasn't when he showed up on the doorstep. Sometimes it was too much for loved ones back home. Wives remarried, girlfriends looked to other men. **

**Now imagine Edward. No next of kin... If he were to be listed as KIA, who would know? Bella isn't listed as his next of kin or emergency contact, and the government wouldn't look into who he was writing to. **

**So we'll just have to see as she continues to get his letters he had sent. And maybe news from Emmett and Jasper (yes they are still alive- I'm not THAT cruel)**

**And see if Lt. Live Guy (as the girls on FB are calling the Lt. Tipton in the ward) remembers who he is. **

**More soon. Remember- hope and faith- **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	32. Chapter 32

_**Happy Halloween all! A little treat for you!**_

_**Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews and comments in regards to your theories and revelations. **_

_**For those balking at me to hurry up already? I'm of the slow cooker variety- this ain't a fast food- dribble drabble- instant gratification story- that's all I'm saying *smiling sweetly***_

* * *

~~oo~~

He sat in his chair, stony faced and quiet under the dogwood tree.

I didn't know what to tell him.

This bit of news was perhaps the breaking point for me in regards to taking care of my men. How many times had I heard their gut wrenching stories- men's comrades shredded right before their eyes, or the dreaded letter from the girl back home saying she had moved on?

Every one of these men had a story that broke your heart if you let it.

And for whatever reason it was the Lt. Tipton… this man…. that affected me so.

In every one of these men I saw Edward. Fate had kept him safe, but every passing day the fear of worrying that he might find his way to me in such a way gnawed at my heart.

Or worse, I would find out…

I grit my teeth and placed my hand at my heart, close to his locket and let out a resolute breath.

I stood and marched inside, determined to make sure Lt. Tip- the man outside got the answers he needed to find himself.

I couldn't bear it anymore.

I hurried down the steps to the front lobby, just in the knick of time as the Tiptons exited out of the elevator.

"Mrs. Tipton!" I cried out, waving them down before the left the hospital.

The woman turned towards me. She looked absolutely devastated, her makeup now a congealed mess under her eyes. Her husband looked as if he had aged many more years than he must have been.

"May I have a word, please," I asked, much quieter as I drew up to them.

Mr. Tipton glanced cautiously towards his wife, I suspected gauging whether she could handle any more news. She looked like he was holding her up, but she nodded and I let out a relieved breath.

I motioned them to the small cafeteria and found a booth where we could sit. Settled in the bench across from them, I reached out to touch the woman's hand. Her dark eyes took me in, and I could see all the pain and remorse a mother must feel when learning her son was possibly dead.

"I am sorry for this, I truly am," I started and paused when I saw her lip quiver once more.

"Miss, we have been through much today," Mr. Tipton said and clenched his jaw. "We didn't even know Matthew had signed up until two days ago."

I looked at him for a moment, perplexed.

"He was supposed to be studying at Cornell," Mrs. Tipton explained around the handkerchief. "He enlisted and we had no idea."

"When was the last time you saw him?" I asked.

"Almost a year ago," Mr. Tipton replied. "He had one of his friends at school writing to us. Why he would want to join the Army, I don't know. He had a future in finance."

I looked from one to the other, wondering if perhaps Lt. Tipton had joined to get away from his obligations of his parents' expectations.

"The man identified as your son," I started and waited for Mrs. Tipton to take a stuttered breath. "It could still be your son. A war changes men."

Mr. Tipton shook his head vehemently.

"That imposter is not our son," he said heatedly.

I bit my tongue at lashing out at him. He was grieving. He didn't understand it was not Lt. Tipton-the man's fault.

"That boy, whoever he is, is not my Matthew," Mrs. Tipton said, a little more gently. "I don't know who he is, but he is not our Matthew."

"Are you sure?" I asked carefully. "He is bandaged, and bruised…"

"And a ginger," Mr. Tipton said succinctly. "That boy there is not our son. Matthew had jet black hair, like Ruth."

The woman nodded, and I noticed then just how dissimilar the man in the yard was to the couple before me.

Dark haired, olive skinned. Dark eyes.

The man outside was auburn haired, fairer skinned if I could tell under the bruising. His eyes were still a mystery.

"He is someone's son, Mrs. Tipton," I whispered and she choked up once more.

"Who will find _my_ son?" she rasped. "The Army did this, they need to find my son."

I nodded and patted her hand gently.

"I agree. Which is why I brought you here," I said, waiting for them to balk at what I had to say.

She looked at me intently, wanting me to continue.

"The war office might have more information. If this man was misidentified, there might be another man, your son, misidentified as well. You are family, you can request an inquiry," I said.

She shook her head and started to cry again.

"They did this, they should fix it!" she cried.

"What happens if they have fouled this up so badly, they have labeled someone else as him?" Mr. Tipton said and shook his head. "We will put in a complaint to the government, but sifting through the injured and dead in his unit will only hurt Ruth more."

I looked at her pleadingly.

"This man needs your help, Mrs. Tipton," I said.

Mr. Tipton stood, pulling his wife with him.

"I won't put her through the what if's, miss. I am sorry for that boy, but he's got his life. We have no idea about our son," he said and moved to leave.

I stood with them and followed them as the walked towards the exit.

"Please, it might give you the information you need to know," I said, nearing the exit with them.

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Tipton said. "My boy is gone. Someone needs to deal with that. I just can't do what you ask."

"Mrs. Tipton," I started, closing my mouth when I saw the husband's warning glance.

"No more," he whispered harshly and rushed her out of the door and into a stylish car parked in the front.

I watched as the Tiptons left, feeling helpless to assist them, but more so to help the man outside.

The man who now had no name.

I turned back slowly towards the stairs, feeling sluggish as I started up the stairs. I was on the second landing that led to the yard when a new idea struck me.

The Tipton's might not want to find out who this man was, but hospital staff had the power to request it.

I rushed to the fifth floor where Esme's office was, stumbling to a halt when I saw her at her desk. She rarely sat there during the day. She looked up over her glasses towards me, her lips set in a grim line as she regarded me.

"I know," she said and shuffled through the papers on her desk, looking for something in particular.

"Esme, we have to do something," I said, expecting an argument.

She pulled out a file and looked up at me, the determination in her face mirroring how I felt.

"I know," she said again and handed me the file. "So run with it. Start with where he was injured, and see if there are casualties or other injured. Someone has the wrong name, Bella. It's a start."

I swallowed and nodded, my mission set.

"The forms at the war office might take some time, but we'll figure out who he is, Bella. I can't stand the idea that another one will go home lost," she whispered.

"He might still remember," I suggested.

She sighed and rubbed at her eyes.

"He might, his injuries allow for temporary memory loss, but how it comes back is a mystery, Bella," she explained. "Just like his hearing and his vision. It might come back, it might not. But perhaps we can help him with that."

"How so?" I asked as I leafed through his file.

Lt. Tipton's file.

.

_Injured- 02-13-45 near Hageunau, Moder River region_

_CO 82nd A/502E combined units for O.V. start date 01-30-45_

_Under Commander O'Neill Army Corps VII_

_._

"Bella?"

I looked up from the information, my mind trying to wrap around all the numbers and commanders in his file.

"Did you hear me?" Esme asked again.

"Sorry," I said and closed the file so I could listen to her plan.

"I want you to put in the requests for injured, the missing and the killed in the area he was found in, but we need to try and help him along with remembering as well," she explained.

I nodded and she continued.

"So perhaps when you spend time with him you can talk to him about everyday things. Carlisle says the brain can act strangely. Remembering some memories while losing others. By talking to him about things as simple as the weather or favorite foods, you could jog his memory to something we can use to help indentify," she continued.

It made sense.

We made plans for the next few days, in the hopes we could keep him in better spirits, while continuing to research to find out his identity. Esme's concerns were the same as mine, and she seemed relieved to find I was willing to help him.

He was one of my men after all.

It just seemed right.

Had it been Edward, I would have hoped someone would help him.

My plans made, I was sent immediately to the war office downtown, hoping to get a request in before the end of the day. Forms filled out and lines waited in, I didn't get back to the hospital until long after my shift was over.

But before I returned home, I wanted to be sure he was settled into his bed once more. Peeking into the ward, the men were quiet in their beds, but at the sound of the door swinging open, his head turned my way.

"Are you still awake?" I said softly as I drew near.

He didn't say anything, but his head remained turned towards me. I moved to sit on his right and his hand came up gesturing to his left.

"I can't hear you from that side so well," he explained in a quiet voice.

I moved the chair to the other side of his bed and scooted closer.

"How did you know it was me?" I asked closer to his good ear when he adjusted his head towards me again.

Even in the waning light, I could see the slight upturned smile tugging at the faint scar at the corner of his lip.

"It's not difficult to know when you're here," he replied. He didn't explain himself and I didn't ask.

I didn't want to disappoint him after the day he had, so we both remained quiet for a moment.

"Did you eat?" I asked finally, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

He nodded and pursed his lips.

"The other nurse told me it was soup," he said, and the pout came back.

I fought to hide my smile, realizing too quickly that he couldn't see it. I looked him over as we sat there and thought about the Tiptons. It was clear to see now that he was not their son. As the bruising continued to heal, and the swelling receded, the man was seemingly quite handsome.

Through the growing beard he had a strong jaw, and although his cheeks were a little hollow from being underfed, they seemed to be gaining their color back. We'd need to cut his hair soon; the lopsided cut from stitching him up starting to show more over the thin line of gauze covering his eye patches.

I wondered what color his eyes were.

His girl, where ever she was, was probably worried sick about him. I knew he must have a girl somewhere, because those letters still plagued my mind. He ws too worked up about them to be simply from his parents.

Someone was missing this man.

Whoever he was.

"Is something wrong?"

I blinked and cleared my throat, pushing aside brief thoughts of missing Edward as I concentrated once more on the man before me.

"I was trying to think of what we should call you now," I said.

"John, I suppose now," he murmured, frowning once again. "It doesn't really matter."

"Maybe I don't like the idea of calling you John," I replied and smiled when he let out a rough sort of snort.

"What if my name _is_ John? You never know," he retorted.

I regarded him for a moment, knowing that he wasn't a John. It didn't suit him.

"Does John feel right?" I asked.

He thought on it a second before finally shrugging slightly.

"Pick a name then," he said quietly.

I swallowed at his suggestion.

Only one name kept popping into my head, and I refused to name him that. I'd have to think of something else.

Anything but Edward's name.

I was not projecting Edward onto this poor man.

I thought hard on a name that might suit him.

"Michael?"

He wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

"Charles?"

"No."

I looked around the room at various paintings on the wall of brilliant doctors from the past.

"Marion."

"No."

"Chester?"

He snorted at that one. I was running out of names in my head.

"George."

"No."

"Bernard."

He shook his head again and turned his head towards me a little more, amused. I let out an exaggerated sigh and thought about it for a moment seriously.

"Anthony?"

The playful smirk on his face faltered and he paused, as if thinking.

"Does Anthony sound familiar?" I asked, hopeful that perhaps it had triggered something.

He waited a moment before nodding.

"It makes me feel," he said and paused. His lips pursed tightly and he let out a frustrated breath. "I can't explain it, and it doesn't sound right, but it feels somehow comforting to hear that name."

I patted his hand lightly and smiled.

"Then we'll call you Anthony for now if it makes you feel better," I replied and the ghost of a smile appeared once more.

"Are you this nice to all your patients?" he asked.

I was glad for once that his eyes were bandaged, so he could not see me blush. Truth was I did spend more time with him.

I just didn't really know why. I was a sucker for someone in need, I supposed.

"They're not really my patients," I explained. "I'm just here to give hope, read some and write letters and help out where I can."

He was quiet for a time, the pout back in place as he thought. I let him have his quiet, knowing that for some men they preferred it to talking.

"Will you read to me?" he asked. "Tomorrow maybe? I'd like that."

I patted his hand again and stood up.

"I would be happy to read to you tomorrow. Now, how about you get some sleep, and I'll be back bright and early?" I asked and watched as he slid a little further into his small bed.

"Thank you," he murmured, and if I could see his eyes, I was sure they'd be closed.

"I'm happy to help, Anthony," I said, the name feeling a little strange on my tongue, but it made him smile, and that made it worthwhile.

I was distracted all the way home, thinking about all the events of the day.

I thought about Mrs. Tipton, and how awful that situation must be for her. But for her to turn away as she did, I couldn't understand why she wouldn't want to learn where her son might be, and in turn, help identify this soldier. I was happy that Esme had let me help with the man in the ward.

Anthony.

It didn't really suit him, but I had nothing else to provide so it was what we could give. If only to provide him a name instead of John Doe, that made me immensely happy. The John Does tore at my heart, knowing they might have someone out there waiting for them and yet no way of knowing. Some of them never recovered and others wished they had not. Even home, they felt the horrors they had left behind. Sometimes it was better to simply forget.

My mind went to Edward once more, and as I stepped up onto my front stoop, I wondered where he was now. The moon was bright tonight, and I had to wonder if he looked up at it and thought about me as well. He'd be hours ahead, but I hoped he was safe, perhaps asleep at that very moment.

But most importantly safe.

I was met by laughter in our room and opened up the door to find Alice and Rose laughing hard on Alice's bed, letters strewn across the top of it. As soon as they saw me, Alice jumped up, a handful of letters in her hand and a brilliant smile on her face.

"More letters Bella! And Emmett proposed to Rose!" she exclaimed.

I took four new letters from Alice's hands and stared at a redfaced Rose on the bed. She was red from laughing so hard, most certainly not from embarrassment.

"He proposed?" I asked, utterly confused.

Of the two of them, I hadn't pegged Rose's pen pal relationship to be anywhere near as romantic as Alice's. Rose let out a wheezing snort and shook her head.

"I can't believe I got the oaf that thinks he can propose to me over a letter," she said and started laughing again. "Especially the way he did it!"

I looked from Alice and Rose, in the hopes that one of them would explain.

Alice finally snatched the letter out of Rose's hand and showed me.

_Roses are red_

_Violets are blue_

_I want to ask_

_To marry you_

"He's joking with you," I said, sure this was a ridiculous joke.

Edward had said Emmett liked to think he was funny.

"Keep reading," Rose said, snickering.

_Seriously, baby. Let's get hitched. As soon as I'm back. I'm all yours. _

My heart stuck in my throat and I tried to swallow it down hard.

"He means it," I whispered.

Rose's laughter stuttered into silence. I looked up to see a tear in her eye.

"I know," she said back just as softly.

"He really does mean it, Rose. He wants to marry you," I said again, watching as the strong and opinionated Rose before me wilted and she started to cry.

"I know he does," she sobbed, and in a second we were all on Alice's bed, holding one another tight.

"How can you be laughing one second and then crying the next?" I asked gently.

Did she love him?

She had always seemed so aloof in regards to her pen pal.

She wiped at her eyes and looked down at her lap.

"I just don't know if we'll be right for each other. I like what he says in his letters, and he makes me laugh. But I can't handle being left behind again," she said quietly.

I hugged her again, understanding all too well the pain of not knowing what was in the future. Lt. Tip- Anthony played in my mind, swirling around with thoughts of Edward and I wondered just how many men out there bared their soul as they did only to find nothing to come home to.

I wanted to be the something for Edward to come home to.

"You have to let them in sometime," I reasoned. "Hope and faith that they get home safe and then who knows."

She nodded and wiped at her eyes again, looking at the letter I offered back to her.

"It's dated back in February. He may not feel like that anymore," she said, trying to discount the pouring of the man's heart that sat in her hands.

"I bet he feels it more now," I said. "After a month of not hearing from us, maybe even more- I bet he feels more strongly about marrying you than he did when he sent that," I said and she let out a sigh.

"This war needs to end," she whispered.

Alice hugged her tight and pecked her on the cheek.

"It's only a matter of time now, Rose. The boys in my ward were talking about the news they had heard on the radio today. They're close to capturing Hitler," she said.

I hadn't heard anything in a day or two, I had been so busy dealing with patients. But to hear that maybe this would all be over soon lifted our spirits, and I slipped off my shoes as I fell into my bed, Edward's letters in my hand.

Four.

I traced the dates he had scrawled across the backs of them. It looked like he had written them all at the same time. Or at least sent them at the same time.

_February 10_

I sighed and tried to ignore how long ago that was.

Too soon, the words were absorbed as I read through them. All too short, and all too simple. As if he were struggling to come up with things to write about. I knew he had little to tell me of the battles he fought. He was always so good about not sharing information on his duties, lest they be censored.

He kept it very vague.

A lot of marching.

A lot of cold weather.

Dreams of good home-cooked meals and a warm bed.

A joke or two about his new commander.

"Emmett calls him Commander Tiptoes," Rose said when we shared some of what was in our letters, hoping to glean between the three of them how they were doing.

"Jasper says he's too young to command," Alice said.

"Edward just says he's demanding, but hasn't steered them in the wrong direction yet," I said and read on about the cold.

"Jasper doesn't like the snow either," Alice said. "I guess we're going back to Texas when he comes home."

Rose and I both laughed at the how easily Alice accepted that she was Jasper's.

She always fell hard for men in uniform.

"What about you, Bella?" Rose asked, folding up her letter. "Has Edward made any plans when he comes home?"

"Just that he wants to be wherever I am," I whispered and curled up around my letters, content to have Edward there in my arms, even if it were simply paper bits of him.

"Let's hope sooner than later," Rose replied softly and turned off the light, all of us ready to sleep.

I lay there in the dark, the light of the city outside striking the tiny picture on our nightstand. Edward stood in the middle, a ghost of a smile on his face. My bleary eyes played tricks on me, and for a moment I saw that smile in my head just as I had earlier that night.

A strong jaw and a ghost of a smile.

I shook my head and turned from the picture, ashamed of myself for comparing the two men at all.

So many of the young soldiers looked alike.

Of course they would look a little similar. Because I wanted them to. Whatever strange pull the man in the ward had on me, it was simply because he was suffering. And I missed Edward. It would be too easy to have him home at this very moment.

Or heartbreaking to have him home and hurt like the man in my ward.

No, Edward was still somewhere, and I was still missing him.

That was why my eyes fooled me.

The man in the ward would discover who he was, and remember his girl he had somewhere.

My heart belonged to Edward.

And soon, he'd be home.

~~oo~~

**AN: So, Bella goes to find out who this man is. Bear with me on the name changing… It's confusing to them too. **

**I received a lovely review last chapter from a guest reader, and sadly it was cut off and doesn't show up in regular reviews, so I didn't see how it ended- but the jist of it was that I was incorrect about Next of Kin discussion in my last AN. It's difficult to research some things (the everyday items or things not deemed historical often get lost in history) but she offered a nice example of NoK requirements for at least the pre-Gulf War era:**

"_**My DH once had a young LCpl. in his unit (this was many years ago, pre-Gulf  
War) who, I guess much like this Edward, literally had not one person of  
family left. At all. He was part of a pre-deployment briefing and told his  
pretty-darn-unique story: the Marine Corps wasn't going to allow him to enlist  
when he was 18 unless he found someone to call his NoK. He'd moved around a  
lot as a kid, so he didn't even have a childhood best friend or  
next-door-neighbor-he'd-known-all-his-life or whatever to list. He finally  
ended up choosing the principal of the high school he graduated from (with the  
principal's permission, of course) and had all kinds of detailed instructions  
and powers of attorney and whatnot, in the event of..."**_

**So of course, I did a little digging- **

**The best I could find (aside from many many wonderful Canadian records that detailed NoK in their recornds posted) was this listing of what was on Army Dog tags in WW2. There were a several types or versions as the war progressed:**

**Copied from a Ask. Com answer in regards to dog tag listings:**

_**Army 1st type Dec. 1940 - Nov. 1941**_

_**first line first name of soldier, second initial, surname CLARENCE R JONES second line army serial number + blood type (space17) 37337566 O third line name next of kin FRED JONES fourth line address, number, street, next of kin 2843 FEDERAL BL fifth line address, city, state DENVER COLO 2nd type Nov. 1941-July 1943**_

_**first line first name of soldier, second initial, surname CLARENCE R JONES second line army serial number (8 first spaces) 37337566 T42 43 O tetanus immunization (spaces 10 12) FRED JONES tetanus toxoid (spaces 14 15) 2843 FEDERAL BL third line name next of kin DENVER COLO P fourth line address, number, street, next of kin fifth line address, city, state + religion (space 18) 3rd type JULY 1943-March 1944**_

_**first line first name of soldier, second initial, surname CLARENCE R JONES second line army serial number, tetanus immunization 37337566 T42 43 O tetanus toxoid, blood type fifth line religion P 4th type March 1944-April 1946**_

**So we can assume that Edward would need a NoK… but who….**

**Perhaps a neighbor- a clergyman- or like GUEST reviewer's husband's Lance Corporal, a principal. **

**Regardless- It's not Bella. **

**So would Bella be informed of his death should he die in combat?**

**Not through official channels. **

**So we'll have to see what the Government comes up with in regards to the Hospital's request in identifying Mr. Not Lt. Tipton-Live Guy-Anthony- _maybe_ Edward….**

**Until then… we'll just have to patient. Some of you are so insistent at a fast resolution… *snort* just makes me want to drag it out longer with your arrrggghs and "hurry up alreadys". but alas- it has its course to follow. **

**More soon! Happy Halloween!**

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	33. Chapter 33

**Hello all! Sorry for the delay- I got tied up this weekend with things... but to make up for my tardiness- how about a much longer chapter?! YAY!**

**Ummm. Some might want tissues... told to warn. Some may just want pie... You'll see.**

* * *

~~oo~~

"Banana cream pie."

"Sometimes."

"Lemon Meringue?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Apple."

"Oh, I miss apple pie."

"Pumpkin pie."

He wrinkled his nose at the last.

"I don't like the texture," he said and licked at his lips when a little bit of the tapioca pudding I was feeding him slipped off the spoon.

I wiped away at the little bit on his chin, feeling the scrape of his whiskers tugging at my napkin.

"How can you say you like sweet potato pie but not like pumpkin?" I asked.

"My mother always made it too runny," he said and then tightened his lips at his words.

I didn't leave him much time to contemplate his memory, knowing if I pushed him on it, he'd freeze up.

"Well I make a very tasty pumpkin pie," I continued on. "But I can't wait until summer so I can make cherry pie."

We had been doing this for a few days now; I would bring up various topics to chat with him about during meal time, and he'd comment. The first time I tried it and he had a glimmering memory, I got so excited he froze entirely and had trouble recalling anything afterwards. It was like his mind just shut down and he'd become withdrawn again.

So I kept it simple after that.

I spoke with him about things I liked, and he added if he remembered things. And when he did, and made that face, I'd continue on with something else, letting his mind get used to the idea of flashes of memory.

It seemed to help.

Now his memories remained in his head, and on his own accord, I would listen when he'd remember something, which wasn't much. Glimpses or flashes and then he'd withdraw.

I never pushed.

Dr. Cullen explained that it had something to do with willful recall or something.

I just didn't want to see him withdraw as he had the first time he remembered something.

All I had said that first time was something about going to the beach and Rose taking my picture.

"You're wearing rosewater today."

I paused in feeding him, startled out of my thoughts by his statement.

"You're right. My roommate, Rose spritzed some on me today. She said it felt like spring, so I should wear it. But I don't know if I like it," I said and discreetly sniffed at my collar.

"Rose gardens were my mother's favorite thing," he murmured and the pout was back.

"I like daffodils, and tulips," I said, hoping to pull him out of his melancholy. The few tulips I had seen had made me wistful for Edward.

I wasn't expecting the startled gasp and jolt through his body, as if he were waking from a falling dream.

"Tulips," he choked, shaking his head and reaching for his chest again.

"It's all right, Anthony," I said, pushing the food tray aside before he kicked it off the bed.

His breathing was short, and the hand grasping at his chest was white knuckled as he tried to calm down. I looked back to see Dr. Cullen down the row, watching us in case Anthony got out of control. He had not since the first day with me when he knocked the spoon out of my hand, but his agitation had grown in general with each day since finding out he was not Lt. Tipton.

Most of the nurses said I was the only one he didn't snap at.

Lucky me.

He calmed down at my gentle touch and I pulled the tray off his bed, knowing he'd want some time to himself after this episode.

And I had other patients to attend to.

I was falling behind on them and that wasn't fair.

"Why don't you try and rest, and I'll be back a little later to read," I said, moving to stand up.

"That's all I ever do is rest," he muttered.

"I'll put the radio on in a few minutes for everyone," I said. "That will be a nice diversion."

He shrugged and turned his face, the whiskers on his cheek catching the light in a fiery glow.

"Do you think maybe I can give you a shave today?"

The pursed lips were back, and he didn't answer.

"Fine," I sighed and turned away to the next patient, intent on letting Anthony be the surly man he seemed to be.

I looked back at him a few minutes later to find him scratching at his beard and pouting again.

So maybe he'd let me shave the beard off sooner than later.

It wasn't well suited for him really.

I made my rounds, talking and enjoying the company of some of the other men that liked to joke around with the nurses, pretending to flirt and carry on. They all knew I was taken, they had seen the locket and caught me writing letters a few times when the night shift was quiet.

It didn't mean they didn't play the game of trying to make me blush.

"Come on Bella!" one man teased. "Your corporal is over there somewhere, you are wasting away! You're too pretty to have a man over there!"

"Sergeant Marcus you are too old for a girl like me," I teased back.

He had to be nearly fifty.

He was harmless of course, he just knew that I worried too much and needed a smile once in a while.

I left the men to their devices, half listening to the radio show of the Lone Ranger while a few others were reading a newspaper. I had less time to read aloud to them, and truth was they didn't really want it.

They liked the five minutes I spent with every one of them more.

I only read to a couple of men now.

Men like Anthony.

I turned from the cart I had been rolling along full of magazines, shaving supplies and books to check on him when I noticed Dr. Cullen sitting beside him working on his head. As I moved closer, I stalled, blinking at the face before me.

Red around the eyes and still a little bruised, even after a few weeks, but it appeared that Dr. Cullen hoped to leave the bandages off now. There were still a few cuts that might fade given time along his cheekbone, but it was hard to tell under the beard that was growing wild. Full eyebrows sat above his closed eyes, and like the pout, I could tell when they wrinkled inward, he was frustrated.

Anthony grazed his fingers over his eyelids and shook his head, murmuring something to the doctor before letting his hand drop, almost sullenly.

Of course, much of what Anthony did was sullen.

"We'll see how tomorrow goes. You'll be a little sensitive to light, but your eyes will need a chance to acclimate and hopefully return to normal eyesight soon," Dr. Cullen was saying as I drew closer.

When he saw me, he smiled and nodded to me.

"See to it that he gets a shave today, Miss Swan. He looks a mess," he said and winked at me to cover his stern voice.

I blinked for a moment before I realized he was putting on a show for the man between us.

Everyone had heard him complain and pitch a fit every time I tried to shave him.

"Yes, Dr. Cullen. I'm sorry," I said, nearly stammering out of real nerves.

I didn't know Dr. Cullen's personality, and I had heard he liked to play mind games with his staff. But Esme had always spoken well of him, regardless of being his wife. He calmed my nerves when he flashed his debonair smile and winked again. Apparently, he knew a thing or two about dealing with difficult patients as well.

"See to it then," he said and marched off to the next ward. "I don't like my boys looking like hobos here."

I let out a long breath and turned to look down at the patient that offered me so much woe.

"I did not mean to get you in trouble," he said, and I could see fresh color staining his cheeks.

He was blushing?

"Well, he's right, you do look a mess," I said, trying to sound put out.

He scratched at his face again, wrinkling his nose as he did so. It was nice to see the rest of his face, even though he still kept his eyelids closed. It was easier to see his forehead wrinkle when he was contemplating.

"I don't think I like beards," he said. "But I remember wanting to be warm."

"Scarves make your face warm. Your beard is too thin to keep in any heat," I said and laughed when he pursed his lips at me. If his eyes had been open, I was sure he'd be scowling.

I could read his expressions so much better now without white gauze sockets staring back at me.  
Still, I wished he could open his eyes.

Still, I wished he could see.

Wish he could remember.

Wish he could be happy.

Wish he could know his future.

Wished this war was over.

Wished Edward were home.

I wished a lot of things these days.

"May I shave you now?" I asked, trying to keep things in motion.

He nodded slightly and struggled to sit up a little higher. It was difficult with his leg in the sling.

"Let me help you," I offered and leaned in to help slide him up. His whiskers on his cheek burned against my neck, his breath hot against me. I pulled away as soon as he was settled and started to prepare the lather for his face. His hair was mussed up from the bandages as well, and I thought about taking care of that as well.

But his frown made me think he was already dealing with too much.

Sitting close, I began to lather him up, smirking when he let out a soft noise like a moan.

"It's warm," he mumbled, his mouth closed to keep from eating the shaving cream.

"Do you think I would be so cruel as to slap on some cold cream to shave my men?" I said and made a slight tutting noise.

He was quiet while I started, probably because he didn't want me to cut off his lips. But as I moved to his neck he grew a little bolder.

"The guys were talking about your beau," he said simply.

I paused to clean the blade.

"Yes, they were," I replied quietly, feeling a little sad once more.

I missed Edward. It was nearing the end of March and I hadn't heard from him since his letters dated way back in February. My only comfort was that Rose and Alice had not heard anything either.

"They shouldn't tease you," he continued.

I shrugged, the effort lost on him.

"They're harmless. I know where my heart is," I whispered.

He pursed his lips again, his hand going to his chest.

I paused again, knowing that it was an auto response to something that upset him. Having him jerk around while I was shaving his neck was not the greatest of ideas.

"You're going to smell handsome when we're all done," I said brightly. "This is a new shaving cream that is supposed to feel refreshing afterwards."

"Smell handsome?" he grunted. "I can only imagine what I look like."

"You're a handsome man, sir," I replied, hoping he took comfort in that. "At least once we get this beard off of you."

He was quiet until I finished, deep in thought judging by his wrinkled brow.

"I may never know what I look like," he murmured and touched his cheek lightly. He traced the small scar he had by his lip.

"Well, you're very dashing when you are clean shaven. Maybe a little like Gary Cooper. But your attitude reminds me a little like James Cagney," I said and smiled when his lips tugged to one side.

"I like James Cagney. We watched one or two of his films at base," he said and the wrinkled brow was back.

I touched his hand on his cheek, happy to see he didn't jump at my touch this time.

"It'll get easier," I said. "You just need time to let the memories come back. And your eyesight will as well, I am sure of it. You just need some time."

He nodded and I patted his cheek, happy to see him finally looking more human.

"Tomorrow we'll take care of your hair," I said and stood up to pack everything back on the cart.

"Thank you," he said as I worked.

I turned around and smiled, again the effort lost on his closed eyes.

"I'm happy to do it. You'll get some rest tonight? If it's still nice out tomorrow, we'll all go outside and I can cut your hair while you get a little sun."

He nodded and I said my goodbyes, glancing back to see him rubbing at his cheek, a ghost of a smile on his lips. He really was quite handsome, rugged and tender at the same time. He'd be a heartbreaker in uniform at the USO dances.

I turned from the ward, my thoughts drifting back to Edward, sad that I didn't have a better picture to look at. It was days like this that I missed him more, when I felt a pang of guilt for complimenting a soldier to make them feel better.

With Anthony, he was truly handsome.

And somewhere his girl was waiting for him.

If only he'd remember a name, I could help.

I supposed I needed to be just as patient as he.

In time.

~~oo~~

Rushing around to get everyone taken care of, I almost overlooked Anthony in the morning. Now that we were outside, he was easier to locate.

Under the dogwood tree, chin in his hand as he sat off by himself in the shade.

"The sun will do you good," I said as I drew closer.

He rubbed at his eyes he still kept closed and frowned.

"It hurts to be in the sun. Makes my head hurt," he groused.

"I'm sorry," I replied softly, coming up to sit beside him on the bench. "Is it fine here in the shade?"

He nodded and tipped his head towards me.

"I tried to open my eyes today, to find out if I could see," he muttered.

I knew the answer before he told me. The pouty lip was back.

"You have to give it time," I reasoned.

"Bandages have been off for a week now, and still nothing but dark grey shadows," he said and let out a sigh. "I tried to see if I could see you this morning, and you looked the same as the breakfast cart."

I laughed and patted his knee.

"Perhaps I look just like that," I teased.

"I doubt that," he murmured and turned away, his blush giving him away.

I hadn't addressed his fondness for me yet, partly because he had enough to keep him depressed.

A harmless crush was the best thing he had going for him in the moment. I figured I'd keep talking about Edward now and again, help to remind him. To ease the blow.

But not today.

Today he was far too melancholy.

"I'm upset with you now," I said, earning his shocked turn of the head.

"You open your eyes and I don't get to witness it. There's a bet in my head as to what color your eyes are, you know," I said and watched a tiny smile return.

"There is? Which is winning?"

I rolled my eyes at him and let out an exasperated noise.

"I'm not telling. _You_ won't share."

With some effort, his eyelids fluttered, struggling against the light.

"You don't have to now," I rushed out, afraid to make his head hurt more.

"It's not so bad in the shade," he said, his eyes squinting slightly before his right eye opened more.

I stared at him when at last he opened both, his focus somewhat drifting to the right of me, but the color was astounding.

Perhaps the redness in and around his eyes made the green more pronounced. But they seemed to leap out at you with their startling color.

"Well?"

I continued to stare, they were almost hypnotic. His timid smile is what finally broke me out of my haze.

"They're green," I said and busied myself with my apron.

"So did you win?" he asked, still looking towards me but not at me.

"I thought they'd be blue," I replied, watching as he tried to focus on me.

He sighed and closed them again.

"You still look like the breakfast cart," he said, earning a slap on the shoulder from me.

"You'll see. One day, it'll come out of the blue and I'll find you talking to the breakfast cart instead of me on principal."

He let out a low chuckle, the blush returning.

"How about I read for a little while?" I asked, changing the subject.

He fought his grin and nodded, leaning back in his wheelchair and putting his head in his hand.

"I like it when you read," he said happily. "Except Hemingway. I don't like him."

I smiled at his good taste, thinking about how Edward had said the same thing. It was nice knowing that some soldiers didn't care for him. Anthony seemed cultured and well read, having liked the Tennyson every day I had read.

So much like Edward.

But not.

I missed Edward. Strange to say, having never met him, but I missed him. I let out a sigh and pulled out the book, struggling to push aside my sad thoughts on missing Edward. I was startled when I felt Anthony's warm hand on mine. He held it for a moment, the warmth of it comforting in the connection.

"I didn't mean to make you sad," he said softly. "I'm happy when you read anything."

"It's all right, I'm not sad for that," I replied, feeling strangely about bringing up my personal life to this man.

"You miss him," he guessed. "Your beau."

"Yes," I whispered, my throat feeling thick with emotion.

He patted my hand and nodded, pulling away with a different kind of pout to his lips. Perhaps he was realizing that I was well and truly taken with someone else. He rubbed at his eyes wearily and finally let out a long breath.

"I think actually I'd like to go back inside. My head is starting to hurt," he said finally.

"All right," I said and helped to push him inside.

Once he was settled in his bed, he remained quiet and aloof. He brushed me off, telling me he wanted to sleep, but I watched as I cleaned up around in the ward.

His eyes were open, unfocused yet turned away from me.

It was a good thing after all.

Thwarting his crush on me.

I had Edward.

And he had someone.

Maybe.

Only time would tell.

~~oo~~

Day after day passed, and no word from Edward.

April arrived, and my only comfort at not hearing from him was the constant reminder that Rose and Alice had heard nothing as well. It didn't mean we were happy about it.

Rose withdrew and became more irritated with things as the days passed. Alice and I had dealt with it before when she learned of Royce, but this was different. She really cared for Emmett, and not knowing anything made it all the more difficult to admit.

I understood well.

Day in and day out we listened to new soldiers coming in, a few men relaying stories of the troops that had pushed through Germany, forcing the Nazi's into retreat. It seemed the war was coming to a close, but still we heard nothing about our boys.

I began working night shifts so I could enjoy the mornings on my own, and I watched as men from my ward came and went. New faces, new injuries and stories from the front and still no Edward.

Because of Anthony's John Doe status, he remained.

In part I think because he seemed to do better when I was around.

His affection towards me was not necessarily overt, but I could tell he was attached emotionally. He denied it once when I called him on it, but his blush and smile when I was near made it difficult some days not to want to wish I could return his affection.

I would admit to being lonely some days, but I never gave up on Edward. My heart was his and I would wait until the end of time for him.

Waiting was what we did best at home.

Letters always were delayed.

We knew this.

We also knew that there was a chance they wouldn't come home.

Every day passing with no word made that possibility more plausible.

Which is why I felt myself withdraw some from the people around me.

Alice noticed it first, having to deal with Rose and I must have been difficult. But she became our cheerleader, trying again and again to offer us something that would prove that the boys were all right.

Alice even went so far as to contact Jasper's mother in Texas.

If anything, she was a good source for us in case the dreaded telegram reached his mother.

So far, nothing.

So far, that seemed to be the word for everything.

Nothing from the War Department on lists of the dead and missing where Lieutenant Tipton was claimed to be.

Nothing but grey shadows for Anthony.

Nothing but scattered brief flashes of memory.

Nothing in my mailbox day after day.

Nothing was starting to break my heart.

~~oo~~

I rubbed at my eyes and looked down at the letter I was trying to write, the dim desk light doing nothing to help my tired eyes.

None of it made sense, and I knew it would end up in the trashbin the same as the last one had. It was not that I had run out of things to say to Edward, it was just that I had run out of happy things to keep him motivated. I had not sent a letter in almost a week, and I was starting to worry that perhaps I would lose the ability to write at all.

I couldn't lie, and my words of inspiration had turned to pleas to come home.

Anthony stirred beside me, his face pinched and sweaty from the dream he must have been having. Lately he had been having nightmares that left him screaming and would wake the whole ward, so one of us kept a vigil at night. And as I worked nights, I volunteered most often.

I laid my hand on his arm, feeling the scorching heat through his shirt and into my palm.

"Four ready," he murmured and began breathing heavily.

"Anthony," I whispered, trying to soothe him.

He pulled his arm away in his sleep, going for his chest again, pressing against the pretend letters he held there. He licked his lips, his eyes moving rapidly in his sleep. He was winding up for a big one, I could tell. I leaned in so that I could rub his arm, trying to comfort. To keep him quiet.

"_Bella."_

Such a choked out noise, I almost didn't catch that he had said my name.

"I'm here. Anthony, you need to wake up," I said, jostling him slightly. Whatever dream he was having, and why he would say my name, I didn't want to know. But he was sweating and on the verge of hyperventilating so I jogged his arm a little more forcefully.

His body jerked into a rigidness I knew would end in a scream. His neck strained as his head was thrown back, and his arms tensed as if bracing for an impact.

His eyes flew open at the same time as his mouth, my name erupting from it and dying as soon as it was out, before he collapsed into bed, limp and panting into the air. His unfocused eyes searched, and his breathing picked up until he felt my hand on his over his chest.

"It's all right Anthony. It was just a dream. You're safe," I whispered and watched as he nodded minutely, licking at his dry lips.

I poured a glass of water and offered it to him, waiting until he had drained it before taking it back from his trembling hand.

Letting out a long stuttered breath, he closed his eyes again, but he didn't fall back to sleep. The hand at his chest remained, clenching at the material there in desperation.

"I was falling," he finally murmured.

He licked at his lips again, swallowing thickly.

"Or jumping, I don't know," he continued. "It was dark, and I just remember falling into blackness. And all I could think about was her."

"Her?" I asked, knowing he had said my name. My heart hurt a little more for him. He must have been confusing me with his girl.

"She gave me a picture," he whispered. "I kept it here, along with her letters."

He rubbed at his chest again, the pain in his face clear at the loss of the letters and the picture. He had asked me now and again about them, and on some days I toyed with the idea of just giving him some, to ease the pain I saw on his face.

Sometimes I wished he still had bandages on, the pain was too much to see sometimes.

"Do you remember her name?" I asked and hoped we would. Calling out my name in his dreams while he dreamt of her only meant I'd need to put a stop to his feelings, and I knew it would crush him.

He shook his head, his lips pursed.

"I thought I did, I can feel it on my lips," he said and touched his fingers to his lips, trying hard to remember.

"It'll come to you, Anthony. Don't try and force it. Relax and go back to sleep. I'll make sure you're safe here," I replied settled back into my chair, needing the distance from him.

I was beginning to think I was hindering his memory more than helping, especially with him calling out my name. I'd have to talk to Dr. Cullen and Esme in the morning to see if perhaps I was right. I didn't want to leave him when he needed someone to help, but if I was causing his confusion, I'd leave my ward.

Or he'd have to leave.

Just another bit of heartbreak, I was finding my heart was less than it ever was these days.

"She's pretty," he said after a long silence.

"You remember her?" I asked, hopeful. A slight tug of the corner of his lip and I knew he did. If he remembered her face, eventually the name would come to him.

And with a name, hopefully an identity.

"I only had that one picture, but I can see her smiling still. She's like an angel," he said, and I felt the tears in my eyes before I could stop them.

Thank goodness he couldn't see.

I was Edward's angel, and the word drove home how much I missed him, and felt like there was a disconnect somewhere. I just didn't have the hope and faith I had before, and that left me feeling less like his angel.

What if this girl had given up on Anthony?

"I'll be right back," I choked out and made a quick exit to the restrooms.

I didn't need him to know I was upset. I didn't really understand why I was so upset at his words.

You are my guiding angel.

Guilt washed over me at having not written Edward all week. At being here instead of with him. Of being so kind to Anthony when he was not Edward. I had let the man attach to me, and soon I would only break his heart as well.

How could I be good for anyone when I had no faith.

I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes narrowed at the scared little girl in the mirror.

I was a coward, not an angel.

I have these men false hope that their lives would be normal, when I had witnessed the fear and prejudice many of them received when they got home.

I had read many a letter from the girl back home telling them that they had moved on.

Because these men would never be adequate. Enough of a man to provide.

These men were broken and I offered them false hope.

I had lied.

I sank down against the sink and cried, not knowing what to do anymore.

Faith was a slippery slope.

How many men had I helped really?

How had I helped Edward, with simply words on a page and a picture?

How had the man in the ward down the hall been helped by my allowing him to remain a mystery?

How was I supposed to carry on?

This was perhaps the lowest I had felt, in the entire war.

I was no one's angel.

~~oo~~

Days passed.

Nothing in the mailbox.

Nothing but grey shadows.

Nothing but fuzzy memories.

Nothing but waking up, going to work, coming home and doing it over again.

Stiff upper lip.

Denying anything was wrong.

Forced smile and simple small talk.

Days passed.

My letter finally done.

The only thing I could say...

.

_April 13__th_

_My dearest Edward, _

_I love you. Please come home. _

_Forever yours,_

_Bella_

_._

Same routine. Every day.

Out the door, check on the men, daily routines, home again and check the box.

Nothing.

"Bella?"

My head turned to find Mrs. Cope in the doorway of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Yes, Mrs. Cope?" I asked, feeling tired and needing to distance myself from the nothingness I felt.

Wanting nothing more than to go upstairs and do…nothing.

"A package arrived for you today," she said and held up her finger to ask me to stay before she disappeared into the dining room.

A small glimmer of hope sparked inside of me.

A package?

Perhaps it would be like Christmas, and he had sent me several letters. Maybe a trinket.

I pressed my fingers into my locket, feeling the tip bite the soft part of my chest just a little, reminding me it was there.

Edward's heart, so close to mine. The heat of it gave me a little boost.

Hope.

Mrs. Cope returned a moment later, a medium sized box in her hands. It looked a little beaten, taped and bound with brown paper, with twine wrapped around it as if to keep it all together. She drew closer, her eyes on the box, seeming a little apprehensive.

"It's from the postal service, direct from the military post," she said and my heart sped up, hopeful.

"Thank you Mrs. Cope!" I said and took the package eagerly, reading the labeling eagerly.

**HQ, USAREUR / 7th ARMY DCS, **

**G2 (c/o CPL EAMASEN) UNIT 101502/82 **

**APO AE 090149351**

The address was different than the one I sent Edward's letters to.

But it was the stamp with prominent red letters just below the return address that made my breath catch.

_**NoK NOTIFIED**_

"Bella, it may not be what it looks like," Mrs. Cope said, but when I looked up at her, I could see the pity on her face.

She was a war widow after all.

She knew.

I knew.

I turned away from her and started for the door, the walk up the stairs harder than ever before.

Alone in my room, with Alice and Rose working late, I set the box down on my bed and proceeded to get changed for bed.

Brushed my teeth, and braided my hair, trying not to stare at the box as it looked on, mocking me.

_**NoK Notified.**_ Next of Kin. I didn't even know who that might be.

I sat on the side of the bed and fingered the twine that kept the box closed.

Every other time, I would have ripped the package open, excited to see the contents.

Now however.

If I didn't open it, I wouldn't know.

Minutes passed, and the tension ate away at me.

I'd have to open it.

I found the scissors, and gently cut away at the bindings, the box opening too easily for me.

Taking a long breath, I peeled away the top flaps, and ignored the wetness on my cheeks.

I knew what they were.

I didn't have to count.

Bundled tightly, with the same binding as the exterior.

Letters.

Dozens.

_Mine. _

With another red stamp emblazoned on the front of the one at the top.

_**UNDELIVERABLE.**_

The nothingness was nothing compared to this.

I stared at the bundles that lay in the box, feeling everything fall away.

There really was nothing left.

~~oo~~

* * *

**AN: Like any arc to a story, there has to be a dip (chasm, gully, bottomless pit). If so, then we're there.**

**Ironic history of the 101st Airborne in reference to Edward's fateful timing?**

**In late February, a mere week after Edward and Tipton were hit, the division went to Mourmelon to rest and train once more for a jump into Berlin. March was spent recooperating, training and being commended by Eisenhower himself.**

**Just a week.**

**They didn't jump into Berlin though. They went out again in the beginning of April, helping to push the Germans back, infiltrating Hitler's vacation retreat (called the Eagle's Nest) and eventually taking many high profile prisoners into custody. They helped to end the war, when at the end of April, Hitler was cut off in Berlin by Allied forces and the Russians. On April 30th, he committed suicide in his bunker beside his new wife, Eva Braun.**

**May 8th, the treaty to end the war in Europe was signed, but the 101st would stay in France training for a jump into Japan. When the Japanese surrendered in August, the 101st would begin its slow return to the the homefront, fully disbanded by November, 1945.**

**Bella and "Anthony" are right at the cusp of Nazi surrender. Surely Alice and Rose will hear something soon.**

**Surely.**

**More soon! Thanks so much for reading! I promise, we are on the upswing soon!**

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	34. Chapter 34

**Hello again my dears! Another long chapter. Would have made it two chapters. But I have my eyes on November 11th. **

**Tissues-liquor-whatever-keeps-you-happy-warning. **

**Much love to all of you that have expressed their love and support for this story, and for our troops (from every nation) that continues to fight for our freedom, or safety and our right to sit back and read this today. **

* * *

~~oo~~

I pretended I was asleep when Rose and Alice came in, my back to the door so as to hide what I was sure was a clearly cried out face. My nose was stuffy and my eyes burned, but there was nothing to be done about it. When I had crawled into my bed, I had shoved the offending box well under my bed, intent on leaving it there forever.

I couldn't process my thoughts at all.

So many feelings worked through me in the few hours I had alone to myself.

He was gone.

But deep in my heart, it felt wrong.

Which lead to the next feeling.

Denial.

The Army had messed up, like with Lt. Tipton.

As disconnected as I had felt in the last couple of weeks in regards to Edward, deep in my gut, something felt off.

The Army was wrong.

Any day now I'd get a letter from him about some mixup.

He was fine.

NoK.

Who was his next of kin? And how horrible would it be if no one were there to grieve for him if he were…

Denial, and then utter devastation washed over me.

How would I even go about finding out if Edward were even alive or dead?

No one except Alice and Rose knew about us.

Desperation grasped at me next.

Emmett and Jasper knew.

I'd mail them. Ask them to confirm he was all right.

Perhaps a letter would come from one of them explaining.

Determination.

I'd get to the bottom of this.

He was alive, damn it. This was a mistake.

I refused to believe the bold red stamps that threatened to deter me.

Dedication.

I was his forever.

I wouldn't let go.

I would carry on. Chin up.

I would write.

Demand.

Answers.

I needed answers.

He was not….

Dead.

Dead.

Not dead.

Please.

Not.

~~oo~~

Dread filled me as I waited in the long line at the War office. So many people waiting for answers, and what the women behind the desks were saying.

"Six to eight weeks, ma'am."

Six to eight weeks of waiting for an answer to if one's husband were truly dead.

I would not be deterred.

"May I help you?"

I stepped forward to an older woman in uniform behind the desk. She seemed a little detached from her job, bored almost.

"I am here to find out about someone. I received some letters," I started, clamping my mouth closed when she pulled out a stack of papers.

"Are you related?"

"No."

"Next of Kin?"

"No."

"Married or can confirm engagement?"

"Um, I have a letter…"

"I'm sorry miss, but we can't give out information unless you are related, next of kin or married to the serviceman," she said in a monotone voice.

"Please, he doesn't have anyone else," I started.

"If his next of kin can not be reached, then you can fill out a form to request to be the next of kin for him."

I nodded, feeling a surge of hope wash over me.

"Name?"

"Edward A. Masen."

"Date of birth?" she asked, pen poised.

I paused over that trying to do the math. How old was he now?

"City of birth?" she continued.

I paused again.

"Chicago?"

"Place of enlistment?"

"Chicago?" I answered again, unsure.

The questions continued, and I felt my hope slipping as I realized how little I knew of him. We had shared much, but his parents' name, his street address; the exact regiment he was under all were a mystery.

The woman sighed and pushed the paper towards me to sign.

"It could take six to eight weeks to investigate…" she continued the speech I had heard over and over.

I walked out of the War office feeling worse than I had going in.

Defeated.

I had no idea if I'd ever hear anything.

We still had not received word on Lt. Tipton.

And that had been almost six weeks.

Waiting seemed to be the only choice.

And waiting was what I was most tired of.

Waiting felt like it was a confirmation that he was what they said.

Dead.

~~oo~~

"Bella!"

I turned slowly to see Alice rushing towards me, her face relaying the concern in them.

I could only imagine what Mrs. Cope had said to them. She was the biggest gossip I had ever met.

"Bella, are you all right?" Alice asked, drawing me over to a private corner of the lobby.

"I'm fine," I lied.

Alice waited a second, trying to see the proof of my lie in my face.

I was too tired to show it.

"Mrs. Cope said you received a parcel yesterday," she continued. "She said she was worried you had taken it badly."

I shook my head and tried to step aside.

"It was nothing," I said, feeling the lie start to fester inside me.

"She said you'd be upset over it," Alice continued.

"No, really I'm fine, Alice," I said. "Did you guys get any letters?"

The distraction slowed her down in her interrogation.

"No, nothing. You? Are you sure you're okay? You look sick."

"I'm coming down with something. Didn't sleep well."

"You're eyes are puffy. And red. Have you been crying?" she asked.

"No, I think it's an infection," I said, feeling the lies stack up. "I really need to get to work Alice. I'll see you home later?"

She nodded slowly and let me leave, watching me as I ascended the stairs.

I felt badly for lying to her, but I couldn't handle the pity. Or any more tears.

I'd write to Jasper and Emmett.

I just couldn't let my heart believe the things that hid under my bed.

Not yet.

~~oo~~

"You're very quiet today, Breakfast Cart."

Anthony's humor was lost on me this morning.

I finished up the last of his face and wiped the remaining shaving cream off of his cheek slowly.

"Just tired," I replied. It was my automatic response many times now this morning.

Esme had asked.

Dr. Cullen.

The entire nursing staff in the ward.

The guy who never spoke to me even looked at me strangely.

Now Anthony.

I ignored the pout and turned to put the things away on the cart that I somehow resembled to him. I was working much slower today, and had only seen half the men before coming to take care of Anthony. He had already eaten, so I was left to shave him.

"I saw a flash of color this morning."

"That's great," I replied, my voice leaden.

"You're upset. Did I do something wrong?" he asked, bringing me around.

I could feel my eyes burning, although I doubted I had any tears left.

It still burned all the way down my throat.

"No, I'm just not good company today," I forced out.

"That's my job," he said, smirking. "Now what am I supposed to do, be the jovial one?"

I know he meant it as a joke. But I was through being jovial.

That had died last night.

Died.

"Do you need anything else, Anthony? I have other men to see," I said, a little harsh.

"Go on," he said, and his eyes looked down, his brow tightening. "I don't want to keep you."

I opened my mouth to apologize, but he had already turned away, towards the windows and their grey overcast sky beyond.

I didn't have the energy to say any more, so I turned and continued my duties, nearly losing it altogether when Sergeant Marcus started his daily flirting routine. When he saw the tears though, he shut his mouth, a look of fear on his face.

I instilled fear in men who had served in Hell.

It was too much for me.

I stalked out towards the restrooms, intent on hiding in a stall all day.

My feet took me outside instead, stopping in front of the old dogwood and the roses starting to bloom beside them. I sat heavily at the bench and closed my eyes, willing myself to fade into nonexistence.

Disappear forever.

I sat there for I don't know how long, ignoring the sounds around me.

Birds. Voices. The wind in the trees.

Deflected it all. And remained in my head.

"I'm sorry I made you sad."

I eyes shot open to his voice, having not heard him draw near. I looked around and saw the other men were outside as well, and somehow Anthony had made his way to me in his wheel chair.

"How did you?" I asked, pausing to see if there was someone who might have helped him get to me.

There was no one near us.

He smiled and nodded to the dogwood.

"I could make out the tree," he explained. "And I've been down the path long enough to make it. And I knew you were here."

"How did you know I was here?" I asked.

He smiled and looked away, his unfocused eyes drifting off towards the roses.

"I could tell."

I shifted on the bench and looked down at my hands, unsure if I wanted to be around anyone just yet.

"You didn't make me sad. I'm sorry for being short with you, today," I murmured, embarrassed for treating him so poorly.

It wasn't his fault.

"I'm sorry I can't make you smile. I wish I could see you smile."

Fresh tears blurred my vision, thinking about how Edward had said how much he wanted to see me smile when he got home.

"Please, don't," I said, choking a little on the words.

His forehead wrinkled and he reached out for me.

"Hey, please. Please don't cry," he said and pulled his hand away quickly when I didn't take it. "I can't seem to say the right things around you. I was never good at talking with women."

"It's not you," I said and wiped at my eyes. They were raw and hurt when I touched them. "I'm sorry, it's just the things you say. They remind me…"

He nodded as if he understood and looked away, his eyes closing.

We sat there listening to the breeze, his eyes closed as if in sleep. I leaned in and took his hand he had offered, and squeezed it gently. He returned the gesture and his face relaxed. It was a nice feeling, having someone there to offer a bit of comfort to me when I needed it. His warm hand reminded me that I was alive.

"I think you and my gal would get along well," he said out of the blue.

I slid my hand free and patted him on his arm, trying to disconnect myself from that warmth that belonged to someone else.

"She and you have faith," he continued and his eyes opened slowly, his head turning towards me.

"It's harder sometimes than it seems," I whispered, looking down at my warm hand, wishing it had been holding Edward's.

Anthony didn't seem to hear me, and when I looked up he was squinting at me hard.

"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"For just a second," he said and paused, squinting a little harder before closing his eyes shut tight and reopening them, unfocused once more. "I saw something for just a second."

"What?" I asked, hopeful that maybe he was starting to get his sight back.

"You have brown hair," he said. "I just caught a flash of color and the shape of your face. But your hair was brown."

"It is," I said and smiled. "What else? Can you still see colors?"

He squinted again leaned a little closer, trying hard. He head came with a foot or two of mine, but I could tell how his eyes seemed to look through me. He was just seeing shadows once more.

"Just the breakfast cart again," he said in exasperation and winked to play off his frustration.

It was difficult not to laugh at his expense.

He leaned back and let his eyes close again, but this time it wasn't to pout or sulk.

"It'll happen in time. Just like you said. We just have to be patient for what we want," he murmured and relaxed in his chair. "And when we do, I'll know who I am and I can go home to her."

"What if the waiting never stops?" I asked, almost to myself. Would I ever learn of Edward's fate?

"Then it will eat away at us won't it?" he said. "Don't be like me, Bella. You're too kind to be like me. You're a strong woman. Things will work out. I need to have faith in that. I need someone to inspire me to believe."

I thought about his words, wondering if he was right.

Would they work out?

Would I be strong enough to keep the faith, even though as I continued to mull over things, I felt Edward slipping from me every second?

Like he was truly gone?

What would I do if he were?

I felt at my locket again, its warmth not unlike Anthony's hand moments ago.

Faith and kindness were hard to find after a night of despair.

I was too tired for faith just now.

I sat with him in silence until the cloud cover turned stormy, and then I took him inside, along with all the other men. I spent the rest of my day trying to put a name to my feelings. After spending all night crying and then trying to simply exist, my emotions slowed down until I felt almost listless.

Drifting.

I felt like I was being carried by the tide, with no way to steer myself.

It was only when Anthony wished me a good night as I was leaving that I felt what I knew would come.

Depression.

Coming home, lying to Mrs. Cope that I was fine, lying to my friends when they looked at me with concern.

My night was full of troublesome dreams.

Of images of a soldier running to get to me, while the world behind him exploded, only to fall short of me, drifting into shadow again and again. I heard him call my name and I was alarmed to find I found his voice familiar. His hand reached for me, warm to the touch before it slipped away, and he was lost to the darkness.

I woke up before dawn, breathing heavily and soaked with sweat.

It wasn't the first time I had dreamt of Edward, but this was the first time he had been lost to me.

I lay there until it was time to get up, slipping out the door before Alice and Rose were even awake.

I'd volunteer for more hours at the hospital.

I'd go to the library to read and be alone.

Anything to keep me from dreaming of losing him.

I had enough worries when I was awake.

~~oo~~

"Can I ask you something?"

Anthony had been quiet all throughout his shave, so it startled me when he spoke suddenly. Lucky for him I wasn't midstroke up his long neck.

I nodded before remembering I was just a dark blob to him.

"Sure," I amended and cleaned the razor.

He squinted his eyes and tried to look at me. When it was obvious it wouldn't get any better, he sighed and closed his eyes.

"When your beau comes back," he said and paused. "If he comes back broken, you'd still love him, right?"

I swallowed down my pain and willed the tears not to come.

He had no idea how many times I thought in the last few days, prayed, that I would do anything to have Edward home.

However he could.

Even if it meant him missing parts of himself.

He'd be alive.

He'd be home.

He'd be with me.

"Yes, I would," I whispered and went back to shaving him.

His cheeks were starting to fill out better, making it easier to shave until I got to his sharp jawline.

"Even if he couldn't see you? Or touch you?" he asked, his voice weak in his throat.

I wiped at his freshly shaven cheek and laid my hand gently over it, offering him some peace. The heat of it was nice; I hadn't been able to feel warm all morning.

"I'd love him no matter what. He'd be home. He'd be alive then," I said and stopped there.

I cleared my throat and busied myself with cleaning up.

"And if he didn't come home? If you were told he was gone?" he asked, his brilliant green eyes searching me out. "Would you go on and live your life? Find someone else."

I could see the hope in his face. The slight blush, the squint that I thought was perhaps not just an effort to focus, but a vulnerable way of looking at me.

It couldn't happen.

"There wouldn't ever be someone else," I said forcefully and stood up, causing him to sit back at the sudden movement.

Clenching my fists, I shut my eyes and let out a long breath.

"Sorry, it's just," I said and struggled to find the words that wouldn't break me. "My heart is his, and I refuse to give that up to anyone else. I promised him. And he told me he'd come home."

Anthony nodded and reached out his hand to me.

"I didn't mean you wouldn't," he replied, taking my hand in his, holding it tight. "I just need to know that maybe she would do the same. She must think me dead by now."

Sitting back down and feeling guilty for my outburst, I held his hand in both of mine, leaning in so that my face was a little closer.

"I hope she doesn't think that. Because it is the worst feeling in the world. And I don't wish that on anyone," I whispered.

"The Army screwed things up for me," he said and squeezed my hand. "I hope they don't for you too."

Trouble was, I hoped they had.

"Everything will work out," I lied, and slipped my hand away. "I'll be back before I leave. Anything you want before I go?"

He squinted again, trying hard to see me.

"Just to see you smile, that's all," he said and sat back in his bed, his eyes yet again unfocused.

"Well, I'm smiling," I said and stepped away.

"No you're not," he called after me. "I don't need eyes to know that."

I didn't answer him.

Like everyone else that asked me if I was all right, even he could tell.

I was not all right.

I never would be.  
Even a blind man could see that.

~~oo~~

I had avoided Rose and Alice as long as I could. I knew they'd be home when I left. I had contemplated not going home, perhaps sleeping in a spare office at the hospital.

But for four days I had avoided them, both at home and at work.

I had noticed Rose glare at me earlier in the day when I rushed off after she had called after me.

Alice had tried as well, although she was less angry with me.

So as I made my way upstairs, the mailbox once again empty, I prepared myself to come clean with them.

I didn't have anything left, so I could sit with them as they cried and pitied me.

I wasn't expecting laughter coming from behind the door.

The noise rattled my resolve, and when I opened the door, any determination I had gained by walking up the stairs vanished when I saw the joy in Alice and Rose's faces.

"Bella! It's the best news!" Alice exclaimed and came running for me, her body colliding into mine with the force of a tornado.

Rose joined us and hugged us tight, spinning us around the room until we all collapsed into the bed, Alice and Rose laughing while I felt my nerve wither further.

"I just know this will cheer you up from this funk that you've been in!" Alice continued and pulled out a yellow Western Union slip.

I winced immediately.

"No! Bella! It's good news!" Alice said when she saw my face and unfolded it to read it.

"It's from Jasper's mother!" she said excitedly. "She received a telegram yesterday from Jasper!"

My heart was in my throat, knowing now that very soon, I would know.

He would know and tell me.

"What did he say?" I asked, finding it hard to speak with the lump in my throat.

"They're coming home!" Alice cried out!

"She said he said they were coming home," she continued and read from the telegram.

"Arrival in New York Harbor on Queen Mary, April 23rd," she said and her face was beaming. "Bella! They'll be home in two days!"

I felt Rose hug the three of us together again, her laughter piercing my ear.

"I'm going to marry that man, as soon as he gets off that boat!" she was saying, squeezing me harder.

"Can you believe it, Bella?" Alice said. "Edward will be home!"

They laughed and hugged me tight, not understanding the fresh tears I let loose.

Tears of joy they assumed.

I couldn't ruin their joy.

They'd have their boys home.

And I'd have my answers.

I'd deal with it then.

~~oo~~

The next two days it rained hard, thunder and lightning rattling the windows of the ward. I worked woodenly, my mind shut off so that it wouldn't dwell on how best to deal with meeting Rose and Alice's men, and then explaining how it was that I knew Edward wouldn't be there.

Alice and Rose had cornered Esme early on the 23rd, telling her the good news and working it out so that we all could leave early. I had tried to get out of it.

But how do you explain that you don't want to go to welcome your boys back?

Esme agreed readily to the girls' request, smiling fondly at me as if she thought this would make everything better.

So I plastered my false smile on my face and prayed the day would speed by.

It never does.

The rain kept us inside, leaving the men in the ward in need of things to do.

Games of chess or checkers were played across beds to occupy the time, and I read from the new Saroyan I had found at the library. I was coming back from my lunch when I noticed Anthony's bed was empty.

A moment's panic gripped me until I saw Esme was walking in, with Anthony beside her.

Hobbling on his good leg, but out of the chair and walking. He struggled with the crutches, but judging by his smile, he had done well in his daily physical therapy. Esme spotted me and called out, earning a wider grin from Anthony as he looked around for my familiar dark shadow.

It was a small glimmer of sunshine in my world, this man's pleased smile at his accomplishment.

"You're doing really well," I said as I drew close.

He grunted and pretended to scowl, but the pout was nowhere to be seen.

He was feeling good about something.

He nodded to Esme and paused in his slow progress towards his bed, her steady arm guiding him.

"Mrs. Cullen says I am doing well. I might even be able to get around by myself," he said. "At least once I can distinguish between people and carts."

I offered him a weak smile, something he couldn't see before turning to Esme.

"You want me to take him?" I asked.

She nodded and waited until I had a hand on Anthony's shoulder before letting go.

"If you could before you need to leave, that would be great," she replied and left us after I nodded.

"She's a nice lady," he said as we made our way across the floor.

"Yes she is," I acknowledged.

"You're leaving early today," he said.

I swallowed and continued walking with him.

"Yes I am."

He remained quiet, not asking where or why I would leave my shift early. It was like he know I didn't want to discuss it. He stumbled slightly, a pained groan escaping his lips as he leaned harder into me.

"Mind your step there," I said and held him up.

"I'm worn out from walking," he said and stopped short of his bed, his body going stiff.

"What is it?" I asked, fearful of the rigid posture he had come to.

"Walking," he murmured. "I remember walking. I can see my buddies walking with me."

He swayed slightly where he stood, and I moved him forward to get him to his bed that was only a foot or so in front of us. He sat heavily on the side of the bed, gripping one crutch tight. His unfocused eyes seemed more out of focus, as if playing a memory in his head.

"It was cold. That always annoyed my gunshot wound."

"You were shot?" I asked, fearful of finding out all he went through.

But perhaps it would help to identify him. He continued on as if he hadn't heard me.

"We had to go for cover," he continued breathlessly. "And he was giving us orders. He was there."

His eyes widened and he clutched at his chest, reaching.

"He was in the foxhole with me."

"Who was?"

Anthony's breath grew ragged, the hand at his chest tearing at his shirt, searching.

"I couldn't hear him screaming, he was grabbing at me," he panted.

"Who was? Anthony?" I said. Trying to calm him down.

"Tipton. He was right there, screaming at me and grabbing."

I held onto him, bent over him as I tried to ease him down into the bed.

"Cold," he continued. "But I had taken my jacket off to clean up. And then…. And then… where was it! I have to find them!"

He was shaking now.

"It's okay," I said, looking around to see if anyone was there to help me as his panic attack blossomed.

"I can't find them! Can't see!" he cried out and reached for me, his eyes going wide as they seemed to focus right on me.

I was holding him down, all my weight on his shoulders to keep him from bolting, from hurting himself.

Something in his eyes seemed to clear. His eyes drifted, down my body and he cried out, reaching for my locket that had worked loose struggling with him. I tried to pull away, the only thing I held dear of Edward's being tugged in his sturdy grip as he wrapped his fingers around the chain, spluttering and gasping, eyes wide.

"My heart," he wailed and tugged harder so that he could see it with his ruined eyes. "I gave my heart."

"Please let go," I cried and tried to pull his fingers away, so that he wouldn't break the only thing that couldn't be broken.

"Let go," I said more firmly, inches from his face now so as not to break the chain. "That's Edward's heart. Let it go, you'll break it, please."

I could feel it cutting into my neck.

Any second.

My heart would break. Edward's heart would break.

"Please let go! It's Edward's!" I screamed, his eyes jerking from the locket, bright green and clear as he stared into my eyes.

"Bella?" he choked.

"Let go!"

"Bella?"

I felt hands on me from behind, pulling me back.

The chain digging.

"Bella?"

Digging.

"You'll break it, please."

My hands trying to pull the locket away, digging into his own to pry….

Stung too tight- the chain from him to me.

Snapping.

"No!" I cried out as the hands pulled me away.

Away.

Away from him.

Away from my heart that was wrapped tight in his hand.

"Bella!"

I heard his cry as orderlies pulled me away, my body going limp at the loss of Edward's locket around my neck.

"Get her out of here!" Dr. Cullen was saying, turning back to Anthony.

"It's Bella!" he continued to cry out, so loudly I could hear it echo in the hall as I was practically carried to Esme's office.

I sat heavily in the armchair she had for guests, taking the water one of the nurses brought in for me. Esme came in shortly after, her face ashen and distressed as she took me in.

"Did he hurt you?" she asked and knelt beside me to look me over. "Bella, did he hurt you?"

I shook my head and reached for my chest, understanding now just how badly he must have felt having lost his letters. There was a hole there where my locket had been.

"He took my locket," I whispered.

She reached into her apron, revealing the chain and locket in her palm. The clasp was broken from the force of his grip. She opened my hand in my lap laying it carefully onto my palm.

"It's broken," I said in a daze. It lay there, pooled in my hand like a limp thing.

"We'll get it fixed, Bella," she said. "It'll be good as new."

"He was so upset," I murmured, shivering a little.

"It was a trigger, Bella," she explained. "My husband is taking care of him now. We'll get him to sleep and try and figure out what set him off. I'm sorry he did that to you."

"The way he said my name," I whispered.

Esme rubbed my knee as I processed, still staring at the broken locket.

"His mind is still fragile, Bella. He was confused, scared. Hallucinating. It will take a long time, Bella," she said and slowly stood. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up so you can meet your man."

I didn't stand up with her, and she looked back at me confused.

"Bella? We should clean you up. Your soldier is coming home today."

"He's dead."

"Who is?"

I looked down at the locket.

"Edward."

"Oh, Bella," Esme started and was kneeling in front of me again. "How do you know?"

I let out a breath and stood up, Esme sitting on her heels at my movement and looking up at me a surprised.

"It doesn't matter," I said. "I have to go with Rose and Alice. Emmett and Jasper deserve a happy reunion."

"Bella, they'd understand if you didn't go. You just need to tell them," she said.

I looked back at Esme on the floor and shook my head.

"I need to hear it from Emmett and Jasper. It's all right," I said and buttoned up the top button of my blouse, straightening my skirt as I stepped through the door. "I'll be in tomorrow."

I tucked the locket into my pocket and walked out of the hospital, not caring if I looked a mess, still in my uniform. I caught the bus towards the station, intent on meeting Rose and Alice there.

Determined on meeting Edward's friends, Emmett and Jasper.

Determined to find out once and for all.

How this all ended.

~~oo~~

* * *

**Next update I hope for November 11th. **

**November 11th is also known as Remembrance Day (Veteran's Day in the States). In honor of those men and women, past present and future that have and will risk their lives for us, I am posting just a scant few organizations that look to make their lives better while on duty, recovering from battle, or helping families left behind. **

**This is just a small group. Check out your local Veteran's of Foreign Wars organization, the local Veteran's Adminstration, a simple Google search. I can't say what an amazing job these organizations do for our soldiers and their families. **

wreathsacrossamerica dot org** is dedicated to providing wreaths for soldiers' graves. Those long forgotten, those unkept, and those that deserve remembrance. Donations and volunteers are always needed. **

projectrudolph dot org** - providing some holiday cheer to our soldiers when they are not able to come home. Project Rudolph has several options, donations, providing gift bags to soldiers in transit, and letter writing. So many options for a fraction of time. **

letterstosoldiers dot org** - the name says it all. and why this story even came about. Can't promise an Edward, maybe not even an Emmett- but I can promise a smile on a soldiers face to know that the letter he or she gets is heartfelt. **

woundedwarriorproject dot org** - a charity near and dear to my heart- providing support to those wounded serving our country- helping families cope, and offering education to everyone what it is to be a wounded solider-whether it is visible or not. **

**I don't have international links, but I know they are there. I hope that as you read this story, you think about what perhaps you can do to help the Edward's out there(and Edwardia's). As the holidays approach, and as we observe and Remember on Nov. 11, please think about donating, even a small bit to one of the charities above. **

**Thanks for reading, and thanks for taking an earnest interest in the history. **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	35. Chapter 35

**Hello again! I decided, in honor of Remembrance Day across the world- I'd update as close to 11am Nov 11****th**** as I could in as many regions as I could. This one goes out to my friends down Under. Remembering all that your soldiers have done at home and abroad. Thank you to those remembered. **

**And to start us off on Remembrance Day, how about…**

* * *

~~oo~~

A glimmer of light there, but mostly it was as if someone had wrapped my eyes in grey cloth. Lights and darks were only distinguished by dull monotone watercolors ruined in the rain.

That was how I woke up every morning.

Try as I might, the shapes would not focus, leaving instead a splitting headache when I tried too hard.

The sunlight was the worst, as it washed everything out into a blinding burst of white that was so radiant it was almost blue.

Almost.

I remembered blue.

Blue skies, blue ocean, a pale blue sundress.

I also remembered brown.

Chestnut, chocolate.

And red.

Fresh red lips.

Possiblly a faint blush of pink.

I remembered her.

Every line and curve of her. To memory.

_Her..._

The name still was lost on me, much as my own.

But I could see her face.

My Angel.

She kept me sane as I sat in my grey world, listening to the world move without me.

Her face in my head seemed to be the only thing I remembered with crystal clear clarity.

Beautiful.

I pressed on the empty spot on my chest again, knowing the action would only depress me.

They were gone.

Every word, every thought. Every term of endearment or happy thought from her.

Gone.

In my head and in my possession.

Gone.

Where was she?

Would she wait?

Would she…want me?

The nurse who tended to me with such patience said that my girl would.

I trusted Bella.

I don't know why, but her voice calmed me. Her gentle way of dealing with me when I was most flustered offered me the kind of reassurance I needed. She was honest and when I was idiotic enough to mention something that struck a chord with her, she still offered me her kindness.

I trusted Bella.

I wouldn't ever tell her, because she would take it the wrong way.

But she was in a way another angel for me.

She made this non-existence something closer to life.

So when she came in days ago so withdrawn that even I could notice, I knew something had happened.

She hid it well, and my blindness helped disguise her pain, but I could hear it in her voice, and feel it in her touch whenever she sat to shave me.

She had lost something precious, it wasn't hard for me to figure out what.

Her beau must have died, because she would tense at the mention of something related to the war.

Her breathing would pick up, stuttered slightly as if she meant to fight it.

Her hands would burn and tremble.

She was struggling.

And I could not help her.

Grey forms floated around me, but I could always tell when she was near.

It is hard to explain.

A glimmer of color?

A warming of the grey?

Her presence just felt different that I could find her, wherever she was in the room.

Hear her voice as she spoke to her charges.

I knew it was wrong of me to be jealous of her soft voice speaking with another man in need, but I did.

I had no claim. None.

She had made that clear time and again.

And I respected that.

I respected her, for her stalwart dedication and persistence.

Even when I knew she was feeling lost.

She remained distant most of the week, her temper a little short with some, including me. I would listen to the men after she left, and they would mention their own worry about the pretty girl that cared for them.

Pretty.

Some even said devastatingly beautiful.

I had no idea.

She was a shadow to me.

Nothing like the breakfast cart I teased her about. I could make out her shape, and determine she was petite.

To me, she was beautiful because of her giving nature.

So like my girl.

My mind liked to torture me some days about their similarities.

When the colors began to flash into my vision, the first color I saw was brown.

Her hair.

Shining in the sun as I concentrated on trying to focus on her as she walked in one morning.

The shocking change in color almost set me off.

But the brown was warm.

It comforted.

Much as my girl's hair might be.

Another glimpse of color happened in the yard, under the tree as she sat beside me.

And for just a second, I saw my girl before me.

Not as I remembered her though.

Not smiling and joyful.

But sad.

I blinked and it was gone.

Try as hard as I might, her image was gone, and the kind nurse was again just a blur.

Anonymous and lost just as I was.

I wished for color.

I wished for clarity.

I wished for a name.

Because I felt lost in this swirling cloud of grey.

Especially when my nurse was not there to cheer me.

~~oo~~

I awoke to familiar grey, darker than the day previous. For a moment I panicked, fearful that my sight was failing, until I heard the rain outside.

Gloomy day.

The men around me complaining about the grey skies.

I hid my laughter, thinking that they had no idea about grey until they walked in my shoes.

I heard the cart rolling down the ward, but could tell immediately that it was not Bella behind it. Another nurse for the morning breakfast routine, and I'd need to behave, regardless of the flavorless food they made me consume.

I ate without complaint, thinking about what my favorite nurse might pretend this would be.

Textureless, tastless with a hint of bland.

If I could call it anything, it would be the color grey. If taste had a color, grey was a compliment.

But that was my world now, and as the nurse wiped my face and patronized me at being such a well behaved soldier, I drifted back into my cloud to think about the only thing that stuck in my mind.

My Angel.

Tracing the picture of her in my mind.

The smile.

The eyes as they looked on, a little bashful, but joyous.

The appling of her cheeks. The faint blush you could detect, even in black and white.

Full lips that curved upwards.

Hair that framed her angelic face, one stray lock getting away in the ocean breeze.

The dress that was respectful, but being a man, I noticed her curves.

Her ankles crossed modestly as she had turned in her seat towards the camera.

Delicate and beautiful.

Every line, every curve.

I would never forget a single part of her.

Everything else might not matter. Only she.

My Angel.

~~oo~~

"Lift your leg and hold it."

I groaned in frustration, the pain shooting through my leg as I struggled to keep it up for the nurse.

Physical therapy was the only thing that made me forget my girl.

There was too much to concentrate on to think of the pleasantries.

Like not shouting at the demanding nurse that always seemed to be there at my sessions.

"3-2-1. Very good, sir. Now let's try and see if we can get some muscle work done on your back side," she said in her bossy tone.

"Just give me a minute," I panted, feeling the sweat work down my neck from the strain.

I heard her huff and could almost discern her putting her hands on her hips.

Almost. I think it was more my imagination than anything else.

"I have other patients, Mr. Anthony," she started but closed her mouth when I heard the door open.

"How's he doing, Rose?" I heard Mrs. Cullen say.

I liked Mrs. Cullen. She had the same gentle demeanor as my favorite nurse.

"He's taking a break," the other nurse, Rose said.

Her name flitted through my mind, sounding so familiar.

"Rose," I said hesitantly, trying to place it.

"Yes?"

"Your name," I said, still thinking. "It's familiar."

She sighed again, clearly short on patience.

"I've been doing your physical therapy for three weeks now, sir," she said and I heard Mrs. Cullen tut at her.

"Rose, he's still trying to remember things. Be nice."

And then I remembered.

"Rosewater," I said, grinning. "You gave Bella some of your rosewater because you thought she should smell like spring!"

She didn't say anything right away, but I could hear her shift beside me.

"Is that what Bella said? You remember what she says to you?" she finally managed, moving to roll me over on my stomach.

I laid my head on my arms and groaned when she pulled on my good leg to stretch it.

"She smelled like rosewater one day and I complimented her on it," I explained.

She paused in her work, my leg suspended in the air.

When the burn started to make my leg shake, she lowered it and moved to the one in the cast, adjusting it carefully.

"You don't have any right smelling my roommate, soldier," she muttered and lifted my injured leg slowly, the burn almost immediate. "She's taken. And madly in love with her man."

"I didn't mean it that way," I said quickly, almost as a groan from the exertion.

She lowered my leg perfunctorily and moved to stand beside me, rolling me over again. My eyes tried to focus on her, and for a moment, the brilliance of gold flashed before my eyes. And ice blue.

"You're a blond," I blurted out, always surprised by what my eyes chose to reveal.

She snorted bedside me and helped me up into a sitting position.

"And you're observant as hell for a blind man."

"Rose," Esme said, sounding exasperated.

"Sorry, I'm just not myself today," she said, sounding abashed.

"Why don't you let me take care of Anthony for the remainder. You and Alice are too distracted for your own good," she teased. "Although I understand why. Seeing your men come home is a worthy distraction."

"Thanks Esme!" the younger nurse said and I knew she was gone by the closing of the door.

Mrs. Cullen let out an exasperated sigh and turned to me.

"When this war is over, I'll lose my best girls," she said. I wasn't sure she meant to speak to me ro whether she was just talking to her herself.

"Rose and Bella are roommates," I said, thinking hard.

And Alice rang a bell.

Another roommate.

"That's right," Esme continued and helped me up so that I could walk along the support bars set up to support me as I struggled to walk. "Alice, Rose and Bella are going to go welcome home their men today.

I paused on the bars, catching my breath while I thought.

Why wasn't Bella more excited then?

She nearly burst into tears the day before over something I had said about the book she had been reading.

I had said I liked Saroyan.

Shouldn't she be more happy to see her man?

Or was she preparing for something else?

"Let's continue, Anthony," Mrs. Cullen prompted, urging me back into motion.

I was panting by the time I reached the end of the bars, dreading the return trip back. Esme kept her hand at my waist, to help me when my arms collapsed. But I managed to make it to the other side, my mind on other things so that the quivering pain that ran from my hip to my toes was only a secondary concern.

Bella was seeing her beau today.

She'd probably leave then.

The thought made me slump a bit against Mrs. Cullen.

"Hang in there, almost done."

Flickering color made me pause again, and I wiped at my eyes to clear the sweat, hoping the colors would stay. They lingered for longer, then washed away once more, only to come back in a brilliant explosion of color that had me grasping at the bar on one side, my legs giving out under me.

"All right, easy," Mrs. Cullen reassured me. "Let's get you back in your chair."

I shook my head and struggled to stand.

"I'm all right. I just," I said and looked around, concentrating hard on the room to see if it would come into focus.

I looked down to the woman beside me and inhaled sharply at seeing warm caramel eyes staring back at me. And then a flicker and they were grey again. But I could make out the shape of her face much better.

"Are you all right?" she said and I watched as a part of the shape moved where her mouth was.

I nodded and shuffled over to the exam table, wiping at my brow again as I studied the room around me.

Not quite in focus, and not in color, but I could make out more shapes.

"Things are clearer," I said, and turned towards Mrs. Cullen, squinting to see what I thought was a smile.

I could make out her outline, and a flash of white that immediately drowned out the rest.

"That's great, Anthony!" she said, clearly pleased. "Why don't we cut this short for the day so you can rest. Maybe that will help. You're getting better and better by the day. "

I nodded and with her help we made our way out into the hall. I had hoped to make it all the back into the ward unassisted with only my crutches, but my legs were weak and in the end, Mrs. Cullen had to hold onto me once more.

I turned when she called out to Bella, who was still here.

She hadn't left yet.

And with these new glimmerings of sight, I could make out her shape as it walked towards me.

Petite, trim. A play of brown again that rustled along her shoulders.

She took over guiding me towards my bed, my eyes playing tricks with me again as I looked down at her and caught the flash of brown once more. This time in her eyes.

Not as warm as I thought they'd be. They seemed sad. Distant.

Dejected.

But the curve of her lips.

A shy smile.

The curve of her lips.

Every line and curve.

Brown hair.

My leg ached from the use. So much walking.

"Mind your step there."

That phrase.

It drew me up short.

Had heard it before.

On the road.

Walking forever.

Cold.

My leg hurt from the gunshot wound.

So did McCarty's.

McCarty….

Whitlock….

Tipton.

"He was there with me," I whispered, images flashing.

Cold. Dreary, a different kind of grey.

Dashing for cover, aching in the cold.

Dug in.

Digging.

Cold.

Tipton. Tipton in the foxhole.

Flash of light. No sound.

Tipton. Screaming at me. Grabbing. Grabbing at my shirt.

Blood everywhere.

Dirt flying. Blood.

Pain and I couldn't see.

My jacket.

"I had taken my jacket off to clean up. And then…. And then… where was it! I have to find them!"

My letters.

Someone was pushing me down. Needed to find cover.

But the letters!

Her letters! My angel!

Pushed down harder, hot hands on me. Sweet breath washing over.

My eyes catching color in steady waves as my mind reeled at the rush of thoughts streaming.

Brown eyes looking at me. Crystal clear, not my imagination. Brown eyes beseeching me.

Red lips moving.

Every curve memorized.

Must be a dream. A trick.

A flash of light between us and my eyes zeroed in with amazing clarity at the wagging bit of gold hanging suspended between her and me.

Gold.

Heart.

Carried with me for how many weeks before sending it off? Cursing myself for not filling it with a picture, because I was too fearful of being too forward.

A locket. My heart.

_My heart I give to you. My heart. _

I gave you my heart.

And here it was. Here you are.

_My angel. _

Images. Thoughts. Names. Screaming through my head.

McCarty-Rose-Whitlock-Alice…..

"Bella?" I gasped, everything coming at me in a rush, reaching for the heart I had seen before.

Grasping at it and feeling it was real. Biting at my palm as I gripped it tight. Closer so I could see.

Remembering.

My angel.

Every line, every curve of her beautiful face.

Staring down at me, eyes wide. Mouth moving.

Screaming.

But I couldn't hear. The explosion.

"Bella?"

So close.

Every curve.

Red lips.

Brown. Beautiful.

"That's Edward's heart! Let go,please!"

Never, Bella. I'll never let go.

Bella.

_Bella._

_My heart. _

_Me. _

_Edward._

Real.

Rushing.

Gripping tighter.

Seeing.

Her.

Real.

"Bella!"

"You'll break it! It's Edward's!"

_Yes, it's mine! _

_You're here. _

_Here. _

_My angel_.

Flashes of color and tension between us until I heard her cry out, disappearing in the grey.

"Bella!"

Pushed down as I searched for her.

Not a dream.

God, not a dream!

I can smell her.

Something metal in my hands.

My tags?

When did I take them off?

Were they blown off in the blast?

Bella!

She was just here!

Have to find!

Lost them!

My jacket!

"Bella!"

Couldn't move. Strong hands pushing down.

"Have to find her," I cried out. "It's Bella!"

"You need to calm down,son."

I struggled against the strong hands. I needed to find…

I had my tags in my hand.

"It'll be all right, son. Breathe."

"Need my letters. Bella's letters. I won't lose them. Mine. Bella!"

"Bella's safe son. You just scared her. Now give me her necklace."

I blinked and looked down, seeing the gold glinting between my fingers.

The dangling chain.

My tags were steel.

This was not.

Gold.

Locket.

Bella's locket.

My heart.

I clutched it to my chest, where her letters should be.

"No, it's mine."

"No, it's Bella's, Anthony."

I shook my head and tightened my grip when I felt fingers prying at my fist.

"My heart," I croaked. "I gave it to her. It's my heart."

Bella!

Harder I gripped, struggling to keep it close.

I'd give it to her. Show her.

Tell her.

"Bella!" I screamed and shoved someone off of me, rolling to try and get up.

Out of the foxhole.

Tipton was dead. His body strewn all over the place.

My tags.

Where were my tags?

My jacket.

Had to find.

"BELLA!"

Pushed down again.

"Sedate him, he'll hurt himself."

No!

"I need Bella," I cried.

I found her.

Every curve. Every line to memory.

There above me.

Brown.

Red lips.

Sweet scent.

I could feel her.

Touch her.

Kiss her.

"Bella," I croaked, my body starting to feel too heavy for me. Too heavy for the bed.

"Bella is safe. Let me take this for now," someone said and I felt my fingers opening.

_No._

"It's all right, Anthony."

Grey was getting darker. Colors gone. Unfocused.

Struggling.

"Anthony you need to let go."

Shook my head.

"Not Anthony."

Someone took my heart. It was gone.

Grey. Darker.

"Give this to my wife, please. See she gets it to Bella."

_"Bella."_

I could see her.

Every curve.

Every… memory...

"Anthony?"

_Not…Anthony. _

_Not….Tipton._

"Edward... name's Edward," I murmured, my lips struggling. "Edward… Masen."

My Angel.

I remembered.

My heart I give.

Every curve.

Every line. To memory.

Smile.

Joy.

Pain.

Everything.

I remembered it all.

Letters.

McCarty.

Rose.

Whitlock.

Alice.

Bella.

Edward.

Edward.

Edward Anthony Masen.

~~oo~~

* * *

**No history today… A quiet moment to remember. **

**Another chapter in a while, for my European friends. **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	36. Chapter 36

**Hello again! This Remembrance Day chapter is dedicated to the lovely readers in Europe. **

**Another chapter coming later today. **

* * *

~~oo~~

It had begun to rain as I stepped off the bus outside the train station. Rushing inside, it was impossible to see anyone clearly in the dull light from the windows.

All a blur of movement and grey as the day.

And so many soldiers moving to and fro.

Reunions left and right.

My emotions up and down at each turn.

Tearful embraces from lovers reunited.

Children hugging their fathers.

Passersby nodding in respect.

All a blur as I stumbled through.

Blind.

Dazed.

Apprehensive.

Reluctant.

"Bella! Over here! Come on!"

A flash of color and I recognized Alice, dressed up in her Sunday best, Rose standing beside her dolled up as well with her hair done up like a Hollywood starlet. Alice noticed my outfit and frowned at me.

"Didn't you have time to go home and change? Bella, you're meeting Edward today!" she chided.

"It'll be fine, Alice," I deflected and looked around for where we needed to go.

"They're transporting them from the dock to here on trains," Alice explained when she noticed me looking. "Come on, let's get your hair done up at least."

I brushed her hand away from me and took a step to the side, my patience near its end.

"I'll be fine, Alice. Please just stop," I grated.

I could see the hurt on her face, but I was full up on hurt.

The day had been more than willing to make the hurt predominant.

I just needed to get confirmation and do whatever came next.

Grieve.

Investigate.

Search.

Walk away.

Whatever it was, I was getting answers.

"What time does the train arrive?" I asked while we waited. Alice had been craning her neck, searching for five minutes.

"Any time now," Rose said and watched me carefully. "Are you sure you're all right? I know you're nervous, but there's something else too."

I remained silent, my eyes watching the platform.

Another train arrived, and from it another round of men in uniform. I felt for the locket in my pocket, tracing the etchings with my fingertips, thinking of not only Edward, but of Anthony back at the hospital.

He had been so upset.

So insistent about my locket.

And his eyes. So clear.

He had seen me. Really seen.

I knew that.

And it hurt so much that I would have to hurt him when he woke up.

I was sure he had been sedated. There was no calming him otherwise.

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the here and now.

Not on the man back at the hospital.

He was someone else's worry.

I was here for answers.

Here to see my friends greet the men they had come to love.

I touched at my chest, forgetting that the locket was in my pocket until I touched it again. I would need to get it fixed as soon as possible. I needed Edward close to me.

The locket was all I had. Just like his letters he kept close.

Like Anthony had kept close.

"Why are you frowning, Bella?" Alice asked. "This is what you have been waiting for!"

Opening my eyes, I shoved thoughts of Anthony and his letters aside and paid attention to my friends here and now. Rose was starting to look nervous, biting the lipstick off of her lips and tiptoeing above others around us to see better.

"Why didn't they send a better picture," she whined and craned her neck further when several more men exited the train.

"I think that's them!" Alice exclaimed and pointed to a pair of men that had just come off the train.

One big and brawny, walking with a cane.

The other tall and looking hard through one eye. The other was covered in an eyepatch.

But they looked something like Edward's buddies. At least what we could understand from the small fuzzy picture. All that was missing was the third man in the middle.

"Where's Edward?" Rose asked, looking at me worriedly. I let out the breath I had been holding.

A small part of me had hoped that he would be here. That the letters were a mistake.

That he would walk off the train, smiling that shy smile.

And get to give me that kiss every girl wants when her man returns from the front.

"That's them! That's them!" Alice cried and broke through the people milling around. I started ahead a little slower, hoping Rose would pass me by as well. But she stayed by my side, hand on my arm.

"I'm sure Edward is here somewhere," she said encouragingly. I nodded and put on my best smile. It felt forced.

"He's probably getting his bag. Go on, I'll keep an eye out, you go get your man," I said and motioned towards the big buy who was standing wide eyed at the collision of Alice and the other man.

Rose hesitated only a second before following after Alice, her embrace not has tremendous as the one of our other friend. I watched as Alice cupped Jasper's cheeks, her fingertips running over his ruined eye, already tears streaming down her face. Jasper took her hand hand kissed them sweetly before leaning in and doing what every girl dreams.

A kiss to remember.

I looked away, before it was too much, seeing in my periphery Emmett dip Rose and kiss her with all the dazzle a Hollywood matinee would provide. A few cheers from passersby, and then the droning noise of the train station. I looked at the clock as a distraction.

Four O'clock.

We'd have to go to dinner.

Find a place for them to stay.

Talk over their trip.

Talk about Edward.

Edward.

"Bella?"

I lifted my eyes to find the four of them standing beside me, Rose and Alice looking up at their men strangely.

Apprehensive.

Confused.

The men on the other hand.

Was it pity?

Fear?

Compassion?

I swallowed and nodded, offering a sympathetic smile to each of them.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Jasper. Emmett," I said and took a breath. "Welcome home."

The locket was my amulet. I held it in my pocket as I watched their faces contort in that painful way when the bad news was coming.

"Jasper, where's Edward?" Alice asked, interrupting the eye contact I had with them.

Jasper swallowed hard and glanced at his girl. I put my hand out, touching him along the arm to get his attention.

"I know," I said quietly. I nodded when they looked at me in mild shock. "It's all right. I just need to know how. And when."

Rose started to tear up, gripping Emmett tightly.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking at them and then me. "What do you mean you know? Know what?"

"How did you learn of it?" Jasper asked, his voice low and deeper than I would have thought.

"Learn what?" Rose said heatedly, her voice rising. "What is going on Bella?"

I cleared my throat and turned to her.

"Edward isn't here, Rose. He won't be, will he Jasper?" I said and looked at him again.

"I am so sorry, Bella," he said and looked down. "We didn't know how to tell you. I tried to send you a letter a dozen times. I'm just so sorry. He was our friend. We wanted to be able to tell you properly."

Alice was crying now, reaching for me.

"That package," she said. "You said it was nothing! Why? Why would you hide that from us? Bella! What was in the package?"

"My letters," I said quietly.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Rose choked out. "We would have helped! You've been carrying this around all week. Bella."

Alice and Rose both reached for me, holding onto me as they cried. I let out a breath, eyeing the two men as they watched us. I couldn't cry. I was cried out, so I just watched them, as they looked down at their shoes while the girls cried.

"This is why I didn't tell you," I said and pulled them away. "I didn't want your first meeting to be a sad one. I made a mistake in not telling you. But I wanted you to be happy."

"They sent you back your letters? With no explanation?" Alice asked, wiping her nose and tucking into Jasper's arm so easily.

I shook my head and looked to both men.

"I'm not family. I wouldn't have known if they hadn't sent back all my letters," I said.

Emmett cleared his throat and pulled away from Rose for a moment, dropping his duffel bag on the ground before us.

"Not all your letters, Bella," he said. He dug through his bag for a second, standing up stiffly with a wrapped bundle in his hands.

He looked like a lost little boy as he gazed down at the bundle and spoke, whisper soft.

"These were really important to him," he started and I could feel those dried up tears form once more.

"He kept them strapped across his chest when we marched," Jasper said, just as solemn.

"I'm sorry, we had to remove some of the envelopes. They were ruined," Emmett mumbled and coughed, his jaw going rigid. "That morning. He must have been caught by surprise."

He coughed again and shook his head, unable to talk. Jasper took the package and extended it towards me, a look a deep sorrow on his face.

"They were in his jacket. He must have had his jacket off at the time. They weren't badly damaged," he said softly.

I took the bundle, my eyes blurring as I opened the package up and recognizing my lettering.

His name there in my hand.

The paper was soft and well worn, as if he had read them again and again.

A weighty package to carry on him into battle.

"It was his shield, he said," Jasper said and looked away, too worked up.

I fingered the soft paper and nodded in understanding.

He had his jacket off.

His shield was gone.

If he had been wearing them would he have been alive still?

"When?" I managed.

"Mid February, near Hageneau," Jasper whispered.

Mid February. So long ago. The place sounded familiar.

"We had been separated," Emmett said, taking over the narrative. "Been on our own for a few days. All that walking in the cold. And then we were stuck in the foxholes."

I slowly looked up from the letters, Emmett's words jogging me from my daze.

_All the walking._

_Cold._

"Hageneau?" I asked.

Jasper nodded.

"Yeah. We were there for almost a week. They kept us down for a few days, and then reinforcements arrived. That's how we learned," he said and looked down again.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he continued. "It was a day before we learned. And all we could find was his jacket. They had already…. He was gone and I am sorry."

"Shouldn't have been him," Emmett muttered, shaking his head back and forth. "He didn't deserve that. He shoulda been on our side. But he was the only one that could stand Commander Tiptoes."

"Commander tiptoes?" Alice asked. "I remember you wrote about him. He was with Edward?"

A queasy feeling was taking over in my stomach.

So familiar.

Tiptoes.

Letters at his chest.

Hageneau.

I couldn't let myself get carried away.

And then Jasper spoke.

"Lieutenant Tipton," Jasper said, shaking his head. "He lived. Or so the medics who took him say. Blown to hell, but he lived."

I made a noise that brought their eyes back up to me in alarm.

"Bella? What?" Alice asked, stepping closer and putting her hand on me to steady me.

I closed my eyes and shook my head.

No.

It couldn't be.

Was fate that cruel?

The hair, the eyes. The letters.

The way he said my name.

_I wish I could see you smile._

_My angel._

A thought came to me from the conversation this afternoon.

My eyes shot open, staring at the men in desperation. Needing clarification.

"Edward was shot. He had a gunshot wound," I said and stepped up to Emmett. "Tell me. He had been shot. Before."

He leaned back at me wide eyed.

"He said he didn't write to you about that. That it was best you didn't know everything what happened," he stuttered.

"But he was shot!" I cried, clutching the letters to my chest. "He carried my letters on his chest. He checked that they were there!"

Jasper nodded and looked at me uneasily.

"He was always checking, it became a nervous habit," he said. "It's always how we knew he was thinking of you."

My head was spinning. I was breathing hard.

I was crying.

I was insane. I had thought.

_Edward. It was Edward._

I turned and bolted from them, hearing them call out after me.

"Bella! Where are you going?"

"The hospital!" I shouted behind me.

I had no time to say anything else.

I needed to get back.

I needed to find him.

I needed to be sure.

But I knew already.

The eyes never lied.

The eyes were windows to the soul.

And even blind, I had seen it.

Pushed it aside in my ignorance and despair.

When it had been there all along.

My god.

_Edward._

~~oo~~

Rush hour was upon us in the city, and the cab I had hailed outside the train station was moving incredibly slow in the traffic. It had started to rain harder, hampering traffic further. I shook with nerves in the back seat, feeling every minute tick away that I was away from him.

_Bella._

_My heart._

_My angel._

_I wish I could see you smile._

_You would get along with my girl._

_Bella._

_Bella_.

Those last few moments with him as he clutched at my locket.

He had known.

I let out a strangled cry and shut my eyes tight.

Stupid.

I was so stupid!

I needed to get back to him!

Every second away was more than I ever wanted to be away from him ever again.

"Let me out here," I said loudly.

"You're still a ways away Miss, and its raining," the cabbie said.

I pulled out what cash I had and gave it to him.

"I don't care, I need to go!" I said and shoved out through the door, dashing down the wet streets. Every one I passed was hunkered down in their rain coats. Umbrellas protected the women as they rushed past, walking around the puddles on the sidewalk.

I didn't even see them.

I ran right through them.

Ran to get to him.

My hand clutching the letters, praying they stayed dry.

Rain pelted my face, ran down my arms as I ran.

I took my shoes off half way there and ran barefoot.

Faster.

Had to see.

Had to know.

My lungs burned, I slipped and nearly fell on 48th street. But I kept going.

Pushing past business men, not caring about modesty or charm as my clothes clung to my skin.

Faster.

Pushing through the crowd.

Hospital in sight.

Close.

So close.

"Bella?" the girl at the front desk called as I slipped and slid past her on the slick floor.

The stairs I took two at a time.

The fourth floor nothing to me as I climbed.

Breathless.

Who needs breath when he's alive?

Climbing.

"Bella!"

I ignored Esme's call and vaulted to the landing, careening towards the doors to my ward.

Everyone turned to see who was crashing through the doors, eyes wide.

So much excitement today in the ward.

I dashed down the aisle, leaving a wet trail behind me, undeterred.

Until I came to a slippery stop at his empty bed.

_No._

_No._

_Nononono_.

I looked around frantically, pushing my hair out of my eyes so I could see through the mess it had become in the rain.

No where.

I saw Dr. Cullen and Esme burst in through the door, eyes intent on me.

"Where is he?" I said, too loud.

Frantic.

Can't be gone.

"Calm down, Bella," Esme said and wrapped her arm around me, steering me towards the door. "Let's get you dry."

I slowed down, trying to pull away.

"No, I need to see him," I spluttered, pointing at his empty bed. "I need to see him!"

Dr. Cullen came to my other side, his arm a lot stronger.

"We'll take you to him," he said in his gentle way. "Come on now, dear girl. You're soaked through. Let's get you changed and you can see him."

I felt everything falling apart.

My breath in tearing gasps. My heart thundering. My skin cold.

Didn't they understand!

"No," I cried, feeling a moment of déjà vu from the afternoon. "It's Edward. I need to see him!"

"We know, sweetie," Esme said, my eyes going wide at her affirmation.

"How?"

She pulled me out of the ward and towards her office.

"He told us before the sedative took effect. He's sleeping right now, Bella," she said and pushed me through to her office. "Let's get you dry first."

I looked back to see Dr. Cullen closing the door behind him, leaving us alone in the office.

The cold seeped in, and I started to shiver.

Or it could have been the nerves.

I was about to collapse.

"Where is he?" I asked, my teeth starting to chatter.

Esme pulled out a dress from her locker and a few towels from her shelves, handing them to me.

"We put him in a private room, downstairs," she explained and helped me to dry off and change.

My hands were shaking so badly, I nearly dropped the bundle of letters. They had gotten slightly damp.

"Are these his letters?" She asked, easing them out of my hands as I slipped my blouse off, followed by my skirt. I nodded and watched with eagle eyes as she laid them near the radiator. Picking through my old clothes I retrieved the locket, holding it tight in my hand.

As soon as I had the dry clothes on I was reaching for the letters again.

"Sit down a moment, Bella."

I shook my head and gripped the letters tight against me.

"I need to see him."

She sighed and tried to look at me with motherly intentions.

"He'll sleep for a few hours yet. You should eat."

I shook my head and felt my breath catching.

"I need to see him."

Her face softened and she pulled me in for a hug.

"When Carlisle told me the name he had said before falling asleep, I thought at first he was just projecting something you had told him," she started and pulled away to look down at me. "But I can tell by the way you are acting, you must have found the answers you needed."

I nodded.

She sighed again and pulled me towards the door, her warmth comforting after the mad dash to get back.

"Let's go find your Edward, then," she whispered and led me downstairs, down a long quiet hall. All the rooms were full, reserved for people with money or for those ill suited for social situations.

I wondered if he had become so unruly that they needed to separate him for everyone's safety. She took me to the last door, turning the handle quietly and leading me in. My breath caught at the sight of him, the desk lamp casting a warm glow across his sleeping face.

The pout was there.

The wrinkled brow.

The rise and fall of his chest, his hand firmly in place over his heart.

My Edward.

"I'll have Carlisle bring a more comfortable chair," she murmured beside me. "And maybe some tea."

I slipped into the metal chair beside him, not hearing much of what she had said.

My eyes were on him.

I reached out and laid my hand carefully on his arm, feeling the heat of him through the shirt.

Real.

Instantly his brow relaxed, his lips opening slightly.

At peace.

I did that for him.

_Angel._

I let my eyes take him in fully now, searching for every line and edge to him.

The scar at his lip, fading now every day. The shiny skin on the bridge of his nose where he had hit it in the explosion. The weathered wrinkles around his eyes, prematurely aged from the sun. His soft full lips.

So many times I had touched them.

Cleaned them.

I had touched Edward all along and not known it.

I had felt something, but had denied it.

The connection between us had been there, even when we had not known.

"Edward," I whispered and felt the tears start fresh.

He was here.

My fingers traced his cheeks, a little rough with his afternoon stubble.

The strong jaw.

Along his lips, feeling his breath against my fingers as I lingered against them.

Cupping his cheek, I leaned in, my nose coming to touch his, smelling him for the first time.

Heady.

Aftershave and sweat.

I smiled at how masculine he smelled and let my nose brush across his cheek, feeling the friction of whiskers on my skin. My lips followed my nose, leaving a ghost of a kiss on his cheek.

"Welcome home, my love," I whispered, struggling not to cry on him as he slept.

He adjusted against me, his cheek pressing against mine.

Even in sleep, we knew how to comfort the other.

I pressed my lips to his cheek again before drawing away, hearing the door knob to the room turn. Dr. Cullen nodded as he pointed to the orderlies where to put the oversized chair at, right beside Edward's bed. When the orderlies left, he stepped in and laid the steaming tea on the desk beside the bed.

"He was very agitated after you left," Dr. Cullen whispered. "But he was lucid enough to give us his name. You unblocked whatever was keeping him from remembering. Whether for good or bad. He remembers now."

"Good or bad?" I asked.

Surely this was the best news ever.

"Just as he remembers you, he remembers other things," he explained. "He remembers losing the 'll remember it all, eventually."

He nodded to the bundle next to Edward's hand on the bed.

"His friends brought them back," I said.

"They're here now, with Rose and Alice. I told them it was probably best to wait until after Edward wakes up before we introduce him to anyone else from his past," he said and smiled. "You'll be a distraction enough."

I blushed and squeezed Edward's had a little tighter.

I was fine with being his distraction.

"Just expect the man you have been caring for too. He'll be flustered, agitated too if he can't piece everything together," Dr. Cullen continued. "But I think he'll be relieved to see you when he wakes up."

Dr. Cullen wished me a good night and slipped out of the room, leaving me there again with the man I had dedicated so much time to.

As both my love and my patient.

I sat there in the quiet and thought about everything I had experienced with him since he arrived.

So many emotions washed over me.

Guilt, for not seeing it sooner.

For not being as kind as I would have been had I known.

Embarrassment at some of the ways he teased me.

Sad at his pain.

Shame that I had not done enough to help him.

Anger that the government had mixed them up somehow.

Joy for feeling the heat of his hand in mine, the gentle sigh he let out when I squeezed it.

He knew.

I was here.

And I was never leaving.

I rested my head against his shoulder, my hand still in his, his heartbeat strong in my ear and I closed my eyes.

I'd wait for him.

I'd be here waiting as I had promised.

~~oo~~

A gentle stroking of my hand roused me from my sleep. It wasn't a feeling I disliked.

On the contrary, it made me feel more at ease as hot fingertips brushed over the hand that clasped Edward's. I squeezed his hand gently, a reminder for him that I was there waiting for him, and felt a squeeze in return.

I lifted my head and found him watching me, his bright green eyes clearly focused on me.

A little tired from the forced sleep, but staring at me.

Taking in every bit of me.

I had to look a fright.

The rain and wind had ripped at my hair.

I had been sleeping on his hard chest, surely leaving sleep marks along my cheek. I felt my blush along my cheeks and looked down, nervously patting at my hair to see how fluffy it had become sleeping on it while it was still damp.

"Bella."

I looked up to find him still taking me in, a slow smile curving his lips.

I swallowed, afraid to say anything. Unsure what I would say as my first words to my love.

His smile grew and I watched as his eyes fluttered for a moment before returning to mine.

"Bella means beautiful," he whispered.

Was he remembering?

Or was he back to the beginning?

"You are so much more beautiful than I imagined," he continued, his hand tightening slighting in mine. "And I imagined every day."

A trace of sadness flitted across his features before he was back to looking at me, his smile wavering.

"I'm not dreaming, right? You're here? You're real?"

"Oh Edward," I managed, sliding up to lay next to him, my arms hugging him close.

His whiskers burned on my cheek, as hot as his breath as he struggled to breathe into my neck.

"Bella," he whispered, and I felt his arms encircle me, holding me tight.

"I'm so sorry," I said into his neck burying myself into him in my shame.

"Why are you sorry?" he said and pulled my head away, his hands cupping either side to hold me where he could see me.

So close.

"I should have figured it out, should have worked harder," I said, only to be silenced by him.

His hands pulled me down, his lips brushing against mine delicately.

So many times I had touched his lips.

But this, his lips on mine.

His lips were hot to the touch and soft.

Yielding as he pressed them against mine a little more firmly, but still modest.

"Bella," he murmured against them, the heat of his breath inviting.

And again he pressed.

A little more firmly, nudging my lips to respond in kind.

I had been dazzled by his warmth, I hadn't realized I had not reciprocated.

My hands moved up his arms, sliding up his neck until I held him, pressing against his mouth with my own in greeting.

Yielding, dancing, moving.

Bottom lip nestled between both of his.

Slow.

Introductions not necessary, but the slowness of his touch enough to want to savor.

Shared breath, another press and moving again, this time to my cheek.

"I've dreamt of that for as long as your first letter," he moaned and kissed me along the cheek to my ear. "I love you, Bella. I love you."

Back to my lips and more urgent, his hands pulling me closer. I lay beside him in the small bed, pressed against his side as his hands held me, his mouth searching, claiming.

"I was so lost without you," he said between desperate kisses. "And then you were there. And I didn't understand. It was too much. So much pain."

"I thought I lost you," I cried and felt my body shake as I sobbed, feeling the overwhelming relief finally take a hold of me.

Here.

He was holding me.

Kissing me.

Loved me.

"I'm here," he said and held me close, tucking my head against his and holding me tight. I felt along his chest, my hand splayed across his beating heart when I remembered.

"I have your letters," I said and sat up a little, wiping my eyes.

Reflex was habit and his hand moved towards his chest, his breath coming out in a gush when he saw me pull them from beside us.

"How?" he asked, his face showing how much fear he had had at losing them.

I lay them on his chest, pressing them to him with my hand. He covered them both with his own, too many emotions passing across his face to keep track.

"Emmett and Jasper saved them for you," I said.

"They're all right?" he asked, his eyes searching mine out.

I nodded and he let out a sigh of relief.

"They're here if you want to see them," I said hesitantly, unsure what his reaction would be.

He shook his head, his shy smile returning as he pulled me closer again.

"Not just yet," he murmured and kissed along my hairline. "I want to enjoy this before people intrude."

He kissed me again, slow and gentle, his hand finding my cheek again, his thumb skirting across it to wipe away the tears. He took his time, and not until I pulled away did he let his eyes flutter open.

"I love you," I whispered and let my lips linger on his skin before running my nose along his jaw again, sighing at the roughness. "Welcome home, Edward."

I held him close for sometime, listening to his heart against my cheek, and sighed when he stroked his fingers through my messy hair.

"You're the most beautiful I have ever seen," he said, when I worried over my hair.

I pretended to purse my lips at him, enjoying the smile on his face.

"You haven't been able to see me until just yesterday," I replied.

He shook his head and he closed his eyes, a look of contentment on his face as he lay there.

"I've seen you every day, since before your photograph," he murmured. "Because you've always been in here."

He pressed his chest again, smiling at the heavy bundle of letters over his heart.

"You've always had my heart, Bella. I loved you from the beginning."

Spoken or written, Edward had a way with words.

He pulled me against him again and fingered the stack of letters against his breast.

"Would you read to me?" he asked softly near my ear after a long while.

"Of course," I said and moved to slide off the bed and into the chair.

He wrapped his arm around my waist and shook his head.

"Stay here, please. After so long, I can't have you sit so far away."

I settled back in beside him, watching as he pulled out a letter.

It was torn in places, and the creases made it nearly come apart at the folds. Edward held it in gingerly in his hands as he squinted to read it.

His eyes were still bad, I knew.

But I was the one reading.

I took it from him carefully, adjusting to get comfortable so I could read. He held me to him, his shoulder an excellent pillow as I read from the letter.

My first one.

"_Dear soldier, my name is Bella…"_

His lips traced my hair as I read; his warmth comforting me when I read the more difficult passages. Fingers traced along anywhere they could reach. His searching kisses in between letters reminded both of us of just how much love there was between us. It was as if we had known one another for years. I felt safe in his arms, and he felt such contentment at my touch, knowing I was there with him, finally.

His presence beside me reminded me how grateful I was that he was there, alive.

Destiny or fate had brought us together, and I thanked them in my heart with each breath he took.

The nurses found us just as we lay, his arms comforting, my letters open and scattered over his chest as I read. They left us alone, knowing that this was what we both needed. We would be inseparable from here on out.

We had lost so much before just to get to this point.

So much still to cover.

But healing had already begun.

Our hearts were restored.

Life could begin again.

My Edward was home.

And I would never let him go.

~~oo~~

* * *

**AN: I hope to have the next one up by the afternoon tomorrow. **  
**Love to all of you. This has been an amazing time and the stories you all have shared as we went along on this journey I will cherish. Thank you to everyone that has pimped, twittered, blogged, voted and FB'd this story. You all are so very wonderful. **

**More tomorrow. **

**MWAH!**

**steph**


	37. Chapter 37

**Once more my friends. Into the breach. **

**I can't thank you enough for all the love and support you have given this story. With a thought and a feeling this last Memorial Day, I started this, so it seems so fitting that I honor our troops again by ending it on Veteran's Day. **

**Remembrance Day.**

**Let us never forget. **

**Let us always pass the history on. In whatever manner works. I am so happy to have been able to share and hear so many stories from all of you as we wandered through time together. **

**Thank you for the memories. **

**I will never forget. **

* * *

~~oo~~

The war ended.

You could hear the shouts of hurrah from the streets, through the hospital. On the radio, in the homes of many.

From around the world it seemed.

But for Bella and Edward, their war had been over, the soldier had come home.

Edward continued to heal, but his wounds would never fully disappear. His vision cleared, but he would always see in flashes of color. He said he didn't mind most days, and Bella could tell by his smile when he'd catch her in full color.

The three sets of friends went on their way after the war, each marrying in a small ceremony as soon as Edward was released from the hospital. That fall saw many weddings, with the boys coming home wanting to forget their past and start again with a new future.

With the end of the war the country moved on to rebuild itself and thrive. The war had changed households, but as the men continued to come home to wives, mothers, families that had missed their sons and husbands, the world pushed on. Rationing continued until supplies replenished themselves from hard work of the ever-growing workforce.

Bella and Edward moved to Chicago, to his home there and settled down. He went to school and found a job working as a music teacher in his old high school, thanks to his principal. Bella went on to get her degree in library science, and found that if she had to be separated by work with Edward, the library was the place to be. With her war bonds maturing, a home to settle down in, it wasn't long before the first Masen came.

Rose and Emmett stayed in New York, Emmett finishing school with a mechanical engineers degree. He worked with the government to construct what would later become the lifesaver of many soldiers- he perfected the remote device, so that men could rely on information getting to them before having to rush into the fray. Rosalie continued her nursing education and streamlined exercises at the Cullen's hospital for returning vets.

Jasper and Alice set up Jasper's lifetime dream of working on a cattle range in Texas. It was a struggle, with fewer people willing to hire a veteran with his vision impaired. But with Jaspers charm and Alice's tenacity, they soon found the means to start their own farm, becoming the leading beef distributor in Texas.

Every year, they would come together in New York, to remember where their lives began. It was the only time the men ever spoke of their time over seas, and most of the time it was after several beers and over cigars. As children came into the fold, stories changed, and battles were glossed over. But the men never talked about it on their own. The women knew this was their own special therapy. They managed the year with nightmares and occasional kneejerk reactions to noises. Because they knew their yearly treks would do the men good.

Korea came, calling for the countries men again. And by luck of the past, their men didn't go. Colorblindness, spatial deprivation and a steel hip kept them on the home front. But the trio supported their brothers and rallied for a quick war. War news and the ever present feeling of a nation at war brought more nightmares and fears at night, but the men's wives carried on, providing the calm and safety that they had needed back then.

Children grow, a country flexes its muscles. Times change.

Sons and daughters of the Greatest Generation grew to view the world a little differently.

With the sixties came a more rebellious attitude at the country's actions.

Bella and Edward watched as their sons went off to war, and as their daughters rebelled and took up the mantle of peace. The Whitlocks lost their only son in Cambodia. The McCarty's lost a son in protest riot at Kent State. Their yearly trip to New York became more difficult as children wanted to go to other places, and couldn't understand the need to visit every year. But the trio withstood the changes in their country, standing firm to the belief that their men had fought and won against tyranny.

Times change, memories are lost. History glosses over the old days in favor of the new innovations and promise of a better life. Wars change, some lasting a few days, others never even called wars but still the men and women go to fight. Flags raised high in support along streets, but people continue their daily life, and sometimes forget the past and how it was.

Instant news on the internet and on the one hundred channels drown out the purpose of the fight. Make it something of background noise for many. But the men and women on the front face the same fears, and those left behind to wait on their return still wait with a troubled heart.

History is written down in books, made into movies to resurge the interest in the past, and life continues.

Bella lived a full life with her husband, never leaving his side until her death. He went shortly after, refusing to remain when his angel left him. They lived a quiet life, spending every moment they could with one another and the five children that they raised. An argument here and there over soup, a grumbling at the cold, but their love was evident until their last breaths.

Once a year, the Masens would come to the house, now occupied by Edward Jr. and visit the graves. Children and grandchildren filled the house, and the memories and history would come back every time. Their sons would recite with solemn respect their father's history as a paratrooper, glossed over with time and the patience of the children at their feet. The hallways kept the photos through the years, and grandchildren would point and ask about Grandpa and Grandma often.

Pictures were everything to the Masens.

As well as letters.

History survives by the retelling.

Which may be why young Bella Stevenson, granddaughter and namesake for her grandmother discovered the treasure in the attic.

Sent to find the decorations for the tree, she stumbled on a footlocker.

Dusty, and tucked into the corner of the loft, it looked to be well forgotten. Curiosity for the unknown was always her weakness. She hoped to go to school in the fall and learn to write novels. What a mystery the old footlocker presented.

She pulled her earbuds out of her ears and knelt down before the old dusty thing. The latch gave way easily, and as the dust filtered through the single light above her, she eyed the contents with an excitement like an archeologist discovering the lost tomb of a long dead pharaoh.

"Mom!" she shouted, tracing her fingers over the bundles of letters at the top.

She heard the ladder creak behind her and noticed her sister peek her head in.

"What did you find?"

Vanessa was always just as curious as Bella when it came to their grandparents house. They would spend hours in the old closet trying on her old dresses.

"I think these are Grams," Bella said and motioned her sister over.

The two of them sat in reverence in front of the locker, marveling at the number of letters and trinkets lay inside. Gingerly, Bella pulled out the most worn bundle of letters, eyeing the writing on them.

"They're addressed to an EA Masen," she said and squinted at the date. "It's during the war."

Ness' eyes lit up and she hugged herself.

"Do you think they're the love letters?"

They heard the ladder creak and jumped at being discovered, sighing when they saw their mother slip up to steps. She sat down next to them and took the bundle from Bella's hands with great care, a wistful look on her face as she spoke to her daughters.

"These are very precious, and not to be handled unless you can understand what it was to read and write these back then," she started.

The girls nodded eagerly, Ness going so far as to sit on her hands to keep from touching them.

"Your Grandpa carried these with him while he fought. Letters to him from a pen pal back home," their mother began.

"Grams," Bella said, smiling.

Their mother nodded and continued.

"It was his protection while he fought. They had never met before writing to one another, but found love through these letters…."

Their mother recounted the story she had heard many times from her mother and the girls listened in rapt attention as the story of Bella and Edward Masen was retold.

Hope and faith in a time of uncertainty.

Loss so unimaginable to the girls as they cried at the idea that their Gram had lost her love.

Shaking with excitement at the story of a mystery soldier, so much like their Grandpa.

And the happily ever after that came when they discovered one another finally.

"They fell in love with one another through these letters, but grew to know one another through being strangers," their mother said and wiped at her tears.

"And that's her locket," Bella said, pointing to the necklace on her mother's neck.

Her mother looked down and shook her head, pressing the locket to her breast.

"No, that is with Gram. She wouldn't ever part with it, even after she passed. Grandpa wouldn't allow it. She carried his heart with her," she replied. "But Grandpa gave all his girls lockets. So I have Grandpa's heart too."

"And she wrote all these letters to him?" Vanessa asked, looking into the chest.

Their mother nodded.

"Almost every day she wrote to him, for over a year."

"Is that the picture?" Bella asked and gently pulled out an old photograph from the chest.

It was crinkled and battered, creases where it had been crushed many times.

But the picture was still clear.

Bella Swan smiling shyly to the camera on a beach, the joy in her eyes obvious.

"That's Gram when she started writing. She was thinking of him when the picture was taken."

Bella traced the picture carefully, noting every curve and line of the photograph.

How romantic it must have been then.

Falling in love by letters.

A different time, what with email and texting the norm these days.

But still. The weight of the letter.

The words.

More carefully thought out.

Bella and Ness spent hours reading them.

Those letters to Corporal Masen, and fell into a love story they had only thought they knew.

Their grandparents had been old when they died, but you could still see the love they felt for one another. Holding one another's hand had seemed so quaint when Bella had seen them together. And the kisses.

She smiled fondly as she laid the bundles back into the chest and closed it up. Ness had long departed, finding the amount of reading daunting. But Bella had remained.

Cried and smiled at the history laid out before her.

And fell in love right along with her Gram.

As she walked down to her room, she wondered what people did these days for letter writing to soldiers. A quick search on her laptop yielding several options.

She sat there at her desk, contemplating.

Did she even have paper?

She knew where there was some.

Which is were she found herself hours later, pen poised over the single paper on her Gram's old writing desk.

What to say?

How did Gram start hers?

She nodded and put pen to paper. It was a start. Who knew where it would lead.

But it was her time now.

.

.

_December 12th, 2012_

_._

_Dear Soldier,_

_My name is Bella….._

~~00~~

**AN: It's hard to write when you're a bawling mess. I want to thank you all for reading and pimping. Supporting this story as you did was the most cherished thing for me. Your kind words, your stories and your input made this such a wonderful experience.**

**I'll be posting a pdf version of this sometime soon, with all the wonderful banners readers made and picture inspiration for each chapter and more condensed history lessons at the footnotes of every chapter (pulling out my babbling in the process)**

**When I have it ready, I'll post it on FB and on twitter. you can follow me on FB at Holdme Ransom, and on Twitter Holdmeransom**

**There is a FB group as well with pics and stories and tidbits. Search for Letters to Corporal Masen to find it. :)**

**Thank you again for reading, and one last pimp before I depart:**

**Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy has a new Militaryward out. It is incredibly moving and I hope that if you are in search for more love of our servicemen (and Edward), you'll give it a try. It's sad at first, but she promises happier times coming up!**

**It is called Tip of the Spear by Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy**

**www DOT fanfiction DOT net/s/8677928/1/Tip-of-the-Spear**

**Love to all of you on this Veteran's Day. Take a moment to thank a soldier.**

**And maybe volunteer or write a letter. It will mean the world to them.**

**MWAH!**

**steph**


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